


Holmes Ever After

by theDOCStardis



Series: Holmes Everlasting [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-07 10:22:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13432683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theDOCStardis/pseuds/theDOCStardis
Summary: If you have not read Holmes Everlasting, it's more than likely a lot of these stories will not make sense. If you would like to read them on their own, you could, but it might be difficult.These are short one-shots, requested by readers of Holmes Everlasting, as well as a few that we wished to add to our main story as well. The first chapter will be an index of which chapters are which stories, so you can navigate this easier. As more gets added, I am sure the tags will change as well.Suggestions for more one-shots to add are always welcome! Thank you all for your continued support!





	1. Index

DIRECTORY

 

Chapter 1 - Index

Chapter 2 - A Wrinkle in Time - 1

Chapter 3 - A Wrinkle in Time - 2

Chapter 4 - A Wrinkle in Time - 3

Chapter 5 - Christine

Chapter 6 - You Shot Me

Chapter 7 - Tea leaves and Proper Chocolates

 

 


	2. A Wrinkle In Time - Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Co-written with the lovely Kaitlin
> 
> A look into when Anthea meets Ryan for the final time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more chapters for this one-shot, and we are going to update hopefully weekly on Saturdays like we did before, but we are a going to be a lot more laid back with that schedule. We will get it on Saturdays if we can, but if we cannot, we apologise ahead of time.

          It had taken some time to settle into Coventry after the move from London, but they were adjusting nicely, Mycroft and herself both finding a new job within the local community, Mycroft of course in the government, and she wherever she could be a woman. Luckily with Mycroft’s pull, she was allowed more than what most could attain, but there were still whispers about a woman working outside of the home. Gregory volunteered within the police there, and Sherlock was still sulking, but that was nothing new. In light of their lasting success, Mycroft had planned a masquerade gala to raise money for the school house in the area, beneficiaries bidding on rather intriguing items they had acquired, and the top item up for bid, dinner with the governor’s wife. That was, till they received the report that she was home with the flu. Anthea had heard that she had taken ill, silently hoping that she would recover in time for their gala seeing as she had stupidly volunteered to put herself into the foray should it come to that. The woman was kind enough, knowledgeable beyond what most even thought was right for a woman to be, though that only made her more interesting to the intellectual men in the area. Hearing that she was getting more ill as the time passed, Anthea tried to keep busy finding a proper replacement before Mycroft came out to greet her.

          “Good evening dearest, I am afraid there has been a change of plans for this evening. Mrs. Pentwater is still home sick and will not be here for the auction. We have a replacement though, so things will continue…” He started, pausing and looking to her with suspicion.

          “You did? What is it?” She asked, originally excited but the look on his face pushed that to the side. “Whom…” Anthea tried again, her frown turning to a scowl. “You’re mad! Me!?”

          “I am not mad, you volunteered love. It is for a good cause, and it is only dinner,” Anthea scowled as Gregory came to join them, Mycroft leaning in and pressing a kiss to her cheek before running off once more.

          “I volunteered to _help,_ ” She argued, pressing her lips in a matching frown before huffing and looking out at the rest of the crowd. At least a few of the men there could hold an interesting conversation, and she was going to hold this against Mycroft for quite some time after. “Fine, I’m getting my mask, and I’m not happy about this. Just know that,” She huffed, brushing past Gregory to the small room that she had claimed as her own to her mask, a fine silver metalwork that she had carefully preserved from Venice after she and Ryan had visited Carnavale, pressing down her nerves and anger for the night. This was for a good cause, something she had pressed the men to do, and she would try and smile through it. As long as whomever ended up placing the winning bid did not try and be ridiculous. Taking one last long breath to steady herself, Anthea returned to the side of the large room where the main gala was being held, smiling faintly to Gregory as he came and offered his arm to her. “I’m still not happy with either of you.”

          “Good evening ladies and gentlemen, we are going to begin the auction. We have a few items that I am sure many of you will be pleased to see, and then, at the end, a very special item up for bid, dinner with…” Mycroft paused for a moment, looking in her direction, her scowl still very clear on her features, and she could see he was about to say something she wasn’t going to like. “Dinner with the government’s doll,”   

          “Oh I am going to murder the both of you!” Anthea hissed under her breath, digging her nails into Gregory’s arm to prove her point before moving to take her place up beside Mycroft, offering a polite smile to everyone as she looked around the room, very much tempted to ‘accidentally’ step on her friends foot with her boot, but deciding not to for now. She knew better than to humiliate others in public unless they absolutely deserved it. Thankful when Mycroft continued on and she could return back stage, she retreated to Gregory’s side, still muttering under her breath but offering a polite smile to anyone who came over to chat with them for a little, knowing full well that she was having to ‘sell’ herself to them for this stupid night.

          “A dinner and nothing more, I promise you. I’ll be sure that whoever the winning bidder is, it won’t be anyone unsavoury.” Gregory promise softly, offering her an apologetic smile as she rolled her eyes. There wasn’t any winning, especially when the pitch was his idea, but hopefully she would forgive him before too long.

          “I am sure you will.” Finally, after all the items were gone, Mycroft beckond her on stage once more, Anthea taking a deep breath and steeling herself as she walked to his side. “This is humiliating. It better be someone with a brain, or I’m taking the money for myself,” She muttered under her breath when she got to him.

          “And now, to the final bid. This is for a good cause, and Miss Anthea is quite the prize to have dinner with, so shall we start the bidding at five shillings?” He knew that was a hefty amount, far more than the other items they had bid off, none of them having even come close, but he had to make it worth it. There was an offer, and another, the price quickly climbing, pence by pence, until the price reached nearly seven shillings. It was rather impressive, and she would not lie that it did stroke her ego to know that men would bid such a lofty amount to dine with her. Just then, a bid of fifteen shillings was called out, a hush rolling over the crowd and Anthea and Mycroft both stilling. She wasn’t sure if she should be excited or nervous at such a large amount of money being spent on her by someone who hadn’t made any other purchases that night. After a moment there was someone else who placed a bet, jumping only a few pence, another shilling, and then the man jumped once more to a pound.

          “Is this man serious?” She whispered with a glance to Mycroft, the politician looking just as surprised as she was, everyone silent, clearly not about to go to a betting war with the man in the black winged mask. Mycroft closed the auction, Anthea giving a small curtsy in thanks as everyone applauded to the mysterious man before she retreated back to Gregory’s side. “A whole pound? For dinner with me? Promise me you’ll make certain he has nothing questionable planned.” She pressed the officer, Gregory nodding sharply to try and comfort her as much as he could.

          “One of us will chaperone, I promise.” Anthea nodded as she fussed with her skirts, trying to hide her nerves though failing. This was insanity, literally selling herself for a dinner, but she knew Gregory would keep her safe, and come along if it came to such circumstances. “Come, let us at least greet him as he speaks with Mycroft,” Gregory offered, Anthea sighing and allowing herself to be brought over to the two, taking some comfort in the way Mycroft looked to her, entertained by it all.

          “I am humbled by the amount you are willing to spend on a simple meal with me,” Anthea said carefully, trying not to be too sarcastic and remember her ‘place,’ whatever that might mean this century.

          “It is worth it for the best, such as yourself, Miss.” The man said, the small group all looking surprised at his hoarse voice, though Mycroft more so than them.

          “Are you ill as well, Sir? Perhaps we should wait for that dinner to be in a week’s time?” She offered, the man clearing his throat and nodding in silence. “I am sure that Mr. Holmes can sort out a schedule for the both of us. I wish you well.” Parting, she found herself not caring if it wasn’t particularly ‘lady like,’ but decided that tonight she deserved more than a polite drink. The man seemed harmless enough, and if Mycroft deemed him appropriate, then of course she would trust him, but that didn’t make this any less humiliating. Drinking close to half of her glass in one go, the woman turned, only to nearly choke at the sight of the man standing nervously behind her, blinking in surprise as she cleared her throat, trying to find her words. “Evening Sir. Am I to assume that Mr. Holmes has sorted everything out for our dinner later?” She asked, wondering why he might be over here, a tad frightened, even though he was quite handsome, and didn’t seem too frightening.

          “I am sorry Miss, I did not mean to frighten you. Yes, my apologies for earlier, I seem to find myself in the position of being very nervous when speaking with you, and if you would, please forgive my mistake. I am not ill, I was just struck speechless by your presence, and knew not what I was saying. If you wouldn’t mind, I would very much like to have dinner with you tonight.” Anthea smiled faintly back at the man, biting the inside of her lip to keep from laughing at his voice as it was now obvious to her that he was purposefully changing it, dropping it a little too low to easily talk, but he was not willing to stop. It was nearly adorable in its ridiculousness, and certainly something that was going to be a long running joke now with Mycroft and Gregory.

          “I assure you there is nothing to be nervous of, Sir. I certainly will be having some words with the detective for naming me the government’s doll, but you have paid your part for a dinner tonight. I must personally thank you for what we’ll be able to give to the school house with such a generous offer.”

          “There will always be something to be nervous about when in the company of such a beautiful and intelligent lady like yourself, Miss.” Anthea raised an eyebrow as he bowed and kissed the back of her hand, feeling a bit of heat warm her cheeks at how the man was treating her. Of course Gregory was a gentleman towards her, but there was a playfulness in their friendship that allowed for them to break the rules around one another in the privacy of their own home. With this man, he was… genuine, and didn’t seem to only be acting in such a way to get information on Mycroft, as was the norm. “Now, I am certain you must be famished. Shall we take our seats for the evening?” Bringing her arm to loop in his, the man lead them over to the table that was reserved for the evening, pulling out her chair and seating her before taking his own. “I do apologise once again, Miss. It has come to my attention that I do not know your name.”

          “Anthea. My mother was fond of curious names,” She said after a pause, settling her own napkin in her lap and offering a polite smile to the server. “Yours, Sir?”

          “If I can be frank, Miss. Your name is beautiful, and reflects the woman I see before me. If you understand, though, I will only say that my name is Mr. Davis. I know, it is a common name, but it is my own surname, and I would rather not have you hear my first. There are people in this town that speak, and do not speak well of me because of misconceived notions. I would like that you get to know me without those implications, if that is acceptable to you.” Anthea smiled at the the praise at her name, feeling that warmth only grow across her cheeks as she ducked her gaze. Glancing towards the table that Mycroft and Gregory were seated at, she was thankful that the two men still seemed to be keeping watch over her, though lost in their own conversations as well.

          “People will always talk, Mr. Davis. After Mr. Holmes and I came her escaping the London Fire, there was quite some chatter surrounding him for his position within the government and yet so little was done. You would think he was the one who had set the fire himself, never mind that Gregory continued to return to the most affected neighborhoods to aid those trying to escape.” She waved off some of his concerns, hoping that he would start to relax some.

          “I like to be above the talk, but I have heard otherwise on Mr. Holmes and the officer. I hear that while all were holding their time with the fire, and staying out of harm's way, the two of them worked and pushed back to do as much as they could to help. You just need to know who to talk to. What I didn’t know was that Mr. Holmes was lucky enough to have a woman such as yourself to keep him company,” Anthea nearly laughed when Mr. David talked about how lucky Mycroft was to have her at his side, if only because she had known him for so long, it was laughable and she knew of his leanings versus how he presented himself to the world.

          “You are quite the flatterer, Sir. I am nearly tempted to call Mr. Holmes over so that you may repeat yourself to him so that he is reminded of such a notion. I am more of a housekeeper for him, than anything else, though I feel the title woefully lacks in the proper description of what our relationship truly stands as. He is my best of friends, though that also tends to bring up unwanted chatter.” She explained, trying to find the right words to describe her friendship without outting Mycroft and Gregory. “I am glad you have heard more than just the common street gab. It is refreshing not to be on the defensive all the time.” With the food being set down in front of them, she thanked the server once more, looking to the stranger as he spoke.

          “This looks delicious. I hear that the officer is quite the cook and had his hand in this menu, or is that rumour incorrect?” Anthea chuckled at the question about the meal sat down in front of them, glad that she had eaten earlier so that she could be polite and not eat nearly as fast as she wanted to.

          “He is quite the cook when he wishes to be, but they both enjoy eating after, more than the process before.” She joked, falling into an easy conversation through dinner and dessert, even losing track of time until they were the last of the guests at the gala, smiling up at Mycroft as the man came over to collect her for the evening. “Would you excuse us a moment?” She asked Mr. Davis as she stood from her chair, guiding the man to the side where they could speak bluntly without fear of others listening in. “Judge me as you wish, but I have found myself smitten by this Mr. Davis. Grant me a night with him, I am certain you and Gregory would enjoy the night to yourselves as well,” Anthea teased, hoping that Mycroft wouldn’t have an argument against her request.

          “I will have my carriage called round for the evening, and it will take you to his residence. No need for unsightly rumours to be started. Gregory and I will find our own way home, no worries my dear.” Leaning in, the man placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, her hands on Mycroft’s wrists in a silent thank you as she looked back to her closest friend and confident. She was thankful that he wasn’t giving her a hard time about falling so quickly for a man she technically didn’t know. “Tutus amicus ne nimium tellus.” _Be safe my friend, and don’t have too much fun._ Mycroft said with a wink, Anthea smiling as she stepped away and return to Mr. Davis’ chair, picking at the hem of her skirts as she tried to find the right words to say without making herself sound questionable.

          “I must admit that I do not wish to end my night yet, as you have fascinated me, Mr. Davis. If you are of like mind, I would be… agreeable, to the idea of taking Mr. Holmes’ carriage to your residence.” Her breath stuck in her throat as he stood, taking her hand in his, and her eyes going wide as Mr. Davis gently took her chin in his hand, standing in shock at the bold and gentle move. It was something that her Ryan always did, one of the odd little quirks that always passed on time and time again, one that she wasn’t sure if it was a trait, or it was something that just naturally came with having to handle her.

          “That sounds _very_ agreeable, Miss. I am honoured that you wish to continue your night with me, and I am in awe that you find my company that intriguing.”

          “Yes… I do, but I do have a clause.” She murmured, gingerly turning her hand in his to take their hands together. “What is your given name?” Anthea asked again, squeezing his hand, curious to know just what it was, if he happened to be her Ryan.

          “Where would the mystery be if I told you my name? Maybe, if you are so inclined, I will tell you in the morning? If it bothers you that you do not know my name, and I do not see you tonight, I will understand. Otherwise, your carriage awaits, Miss.”

          “At least let me hear your true voice then,” Anthea argued, sorry that he wasn’t willing to tell her his name, but it was clear that he was far more anxious than he ought to be. It had been quite some time since she had lost her partner, and longer yet since she had been with anyone intimately as Ryan had grown too old to do such activities their last few years together.

          “I would, but I am afraid I have ruined my voice from trying so long to keep up this charade,” The man chuckled, Mycroft appearing at her side and taking her arm as he walked her out. There was a thrill under her skin as the man directed the driver to Mr. Davis’ address, taking one last look at her friend before they pulled away.

          Upon arrival at the townhouse, she once again tugged nervously at her sleeves, questioning if this was right or not. Mycroft wouldn’t let her get into a mess she wouldn’t be able to handle, though. If nothing else, this Mr. Davis couldn’t be too much of a threat. Stepping up to the door and rapping the knocker in quick succession, Anthea chewed at her lip until it opened, smiling faintly as she felt a flutter in her chest at the man’s now unmasked face smiling back at her.

          “Hello, Mr. Davis.”

          “Good evening Miss. Please, do come in from the cold.” Stepping to the side, he offered to take her shawl, hanging it on the stand before escorting her to the parlor. “I am sure my humble abode compares not to the wealthy Mr. Holmes, but hopefully it pleases you.” It was beautiful, simple and warm and comforting, nothing like what Mycroft’s homes tended to be like if she hadn’t put her foot down in their rapid move out of London.

          “I assure you that it is wonderful. While Mr. Holmes may be one of my closest friends, his brother Sherlock is a nightmare, and is rooming with us as well at the moment. There have been times I have been tempted to toss him into the Thames, more than once actually.” She joked, slowly walking over to the fire and holding her hands out to warm them.

          “My apologies at the chill Miss, I haven’t had the fire going for too long yet, perhaps…” Anthea froze at the feeling of the man moving around behind her, very much wrapping himself around her. Closing her eyes at how natural it felt, how they fit together in a way that only one man was ever able to, well, technically thirteen, but the technicalities of immortality got very confusing. “You really are breathtaking, Miss. I am surprised that someone has not courted you sooner.”

          “You are very brave, Mr. Davis. Others have tried, but Mr. Holmes is very protective and makes sure that no one who I do not want, will not bother me.” She murmured, her voice soft in the intimacy of the moment, slowly allowing herself to relax against the man’s chest. “Why is it that the town does not like you?”

          “I think you are mistaking my bravery for foolishness. I am hoping that you do not push me away, leave, and never wish to see me again. There is a familiarity about you Miss, and it has given me a false sense of security, but please, if my advances are unwelcome, do not fear to say so.” Anthea closed her eyes as she felt the man rest against her as well, her heart racing in her chest, unsure of what to do. Her common sense started to storm her head in retaliation against this moment of impulsiveness, but she squashed it back down. “I hope this does not upset you, but the town does not like my way of thinking. For most, I am considered too forward, too progressive. They fear change, and the unknown. I wish to do good with the fortune I have earned, and to move forward one must be willing to take risks and stand out against the crowd.”

          “People will always be afraid of change. That is why London nearly fell, because of the fear of change and action instead of doing nothing.” She murmured, her shoulders drooping at the memories of how ash rained down from the sky as they left, the fear in Gregory’s eyes and how lost Sherlock seemed through it all… even that damned dog that Gregory had given to Sherlock coming with them. “I supposed they simply have not had the time to dislike me for the same reasons. Perhaps that is why I find myself so drawn to you, Sir.”

          “Mmm, well I think it might be hard to dislike you, Miss.” The man hummed, wrapping his arms just a tad tighter around her. “Anthea…” Looking up at the man, she swallowed thickly as he tried to find the right words to say, turning in his arms to face him as he tried so hard to behave himself while they both so clearly wanted more. It was hard enough to not whisper the name that kept coming to mind, to ask if he was Ryan, but that would come with time. Sometimes… very rarely, between their meetings there were little flames, but nothing that had ever felt this strong. “I find myself in a very precarious position of wishing to kiss you, but also wishing to respect the rules of propriety. I wouldn’t wish to make you uncomfortable.”

          “You have not yet, Mr. Davis.” She whispered in return, raising one hand to rest on the man’s chest as she gingerly leaned up on her toes to press their lips together. It was nothing lasting, just a short kiss as she pulled away, but that did not last long before the man pulled her back, Anthea shivering under the man’s touch as he deepened it this time, her hand fisting in his shirt. This had to be her Ryan, or she had gone mad. This felt far too familiar to be anyone or anything else. They only broke apart when she had to sit back down on her heels, laughing softly at their height difference. “You’ve not made me uncomfortable yet, but if we are to be so forward, I am sure a bed would be more comfortable in the next coming moments,”

          “I don’t know how I am ever to keep up with you Miss,” His voice was dark, full of want and desire, and though he still sounded a bit hoarse from his earlier antics, it was clear this effect was because of her. Yelping in surprise as he scooped her up off the floor, Anthea laughed as she held tight around his neck. It was shockingly easy to trust him, even without knowing his name. Upon entering the bedroom, he sat her down on the plush bed, moving to stand between her legs. “I hope this is to your liking, Miss.”

          “You are quite worried on impressing me, Mr. Davis.” She said with an amused smirk, chewing her lip as she looked to him with a flirtatious smirk before a thought came to her mind. “If you wish to truly impress me, you’ll be able to help me out of this damned dress without ripping it…”

          “I wouldn’t wish you to get the wrong impression that I am able to disrobe a woman with ease because I have experience, rather I have sisters and our family was never wealthy enough to have stewards, and my mother died early. I was roped into helping them at times,” He chuckled, turning her around and starting on the clasps that went down the back. Anthea couldn’t help but laugh again as he freed her from her clothes, taking a deep breath once she was able to, only for it to be pressed out once more at the feeling of his lips pressed against the back of her neck. Her eyes flickered shut as she felt the rest of her clothes fall away, the man turning her around to kiss him again, her own hands traveling up to start picking at the buttons on his shirt. It was far easier in getting him out of his clothes that it was, herself the man already having ridded himself of his coat and shoes. Looking back up at the other in the soft glow of the gas lamp on the far table, Anthea trailed her fingers along the man’s cheek before leaning up for another kiss, a different type of nerves getting the best of her this time. “You are absolutely stunning, Miss. I only wish to make this special for you, as cliche as that might sound.” Every life there was a first time, and she had tried to explain it time and time before, either answering questions from Ryan, or even Gregory, and they were each different and amazing each time.

          “Christ,” Anthea breathed as she felt him mouth at her skin, her nails running along the man’s scalp and back as she arched into his touch, swallowing back that name that was so quick to jump to her lips. She couldn’t know for certain that this was Ryan, and she didn’t dare lose this now if she happened to be wrong. The last of her smallclothes were easily discarded, Anthea watching as the man slowly kissed down her body, a hand clenching the sheets around her as he moved further down. Spreading her legs in want of what was clearly being asked of her, she whimpered at the lightest breath ghosting along her already slicked folds, trying desperately not to beg and being so close to failing. If this man wasn’t her Ryan, she would be ruined. Anthea rolled her hips towards the man’s mouth as he started to work her over with his tongue, shivering and whimpering as he felt his hands tightened around her hips to keep her in place. There was always that sting of jealousy whenever their mates came to them experienced in bed, knowing all the little tricks on how to take them apart, but Anthea forced that away for now, her free hand keeping her from crying out as she felt his teeth scrape ever so carefully over that bundle of nerves, pushing through his hair and holding onto his head. “More,” She finally begged as their eyes met, her gaze filled with lust as she saw how his body was searching out for pleasure as well, an idea coming to mind that she wouldn’t normally dare bring up so soon, but decided to throw caution to the wind. “Don’t stop, but come on the bed so I can take you in my mouth while you use yours on me. Let me pleasure you too.” A low moan ripped through his chest as he climbed up the bed, leaning down and claiming her lips. The kiss very nearly derailed her plans, immediately melting into it and wrapping her arms around his shoulders to hold him close. There was a rush at tasting herself on his lips, along with how they seemed to fit perfectly together. It didn’t take long to rid him of the last of his clothes as well, reaching up to help him out of his trousers. Readjusting their positions, she fought against the urge to simply give in and chase after her own release, but she wanted to return the affections. Taking his prick into her mouth and giving a few experimental licks, she fell into a pattern, a smile on her features as she heard him cry out.

          “Ah, Anthea…” She was less worried now about being too loud as she whimpered and moaned when his mouth returned to her, groaning at the burst of pleasure coursing through her body. After a few moments she heard him speak again, pulling off and taking a few deep breaths. “Anthea, I’m afraid if we keep this up, I will not last much longer, and there is so much more I wish to give you.” Shivering as the heat of the man’s body moved away from her, she studied him in their pause, the dim light casting shadows over the both of them. He was certainly handsome in the most common sense of the word, thin but muscular enough to be defined, certainly enough to have been able to carry her into this room without pause. “Are you okay with this?” His whispered question pulled at her heart in both adoration and sorrow, that the man cared enough to make sure that this wasn’t going too far, that the possible consequences weren’t too much, though it seemed it was simply a near impossibility for a mortal and immortal to have a child together. While yes, it had always been something that she was mindful of, there were plenty of times she should have found herself pregnant and had not yet. Swallowing thickly and nodding, she met the man’s gaze, moving to wrap an arm around Mr. Davis’ shoulders and the other around his waist, pulling him down as a moan escaped her, his hard prick slipping inside to fill her. There was a small pause before he start a slow pace, the man setting his rhythm before reaching between them, his fingers easily finding her sweet spot once more.

          There was a moment the man seemed to pause, his gaze coming out as if he were watching something play out in his mind’s eye, and for that breath Anthea found herself terrified that he would suddenly say that he had to stop, that he had a wife and family, but then he was back and focused even more on her, begging for her to come.

          “Anthea, Miss, please, I wish to see you come undone.” She wanted to ask what had happened and if he was alright, but then he shifted his hips and his a spot deep inside of her, and all air and thought was forced out of her body in a needy cry. It hardly took anything more after that, the woman curling around her new lover as he thrust a few more times against that same place before her orgasm hit, clenching tight around him as she felt him stutter as well. It was another minutes before Anthea could get her wits around her enough to try and grab for a blanket to throw around them, the sweat cooling on their skin as she shivered and rolled to curl into the man’s chest for comfort.

          “I may say it is best that the town does not have the greatest liking for you. Should any of the other women know how you are in bed, they would have already claimed you from me.”

          “I am glad that I have pleased you Miss. Might I be as bold to say though, I do not think another woman could hold a candle to you. You certainly are one of a kind.” Anthea laughed softly as Mr. Davis praised her, tipping her head into the gentle kiss to her forehead as she spread her hand across his chest and focused on the feeling of his heart under her palm. “Stay the night, Miss?” He was sweet and kind, something that isn’t always found together, Anthea humming in agreement when he asked for her to spend the night. The thought of trying to sort her dress out on her own and returning home did not appeal to her. “Am Bana-dia Ròmanach." Feeling the man starting to fall asleep beside her, Anthea was nearly asleep herself when she heard the soft words whispered to her, those words that she hadn’t heard in hundreds of years. Bolting awake, she only just kept herself from jumping out of the bed, turning back towards the man, Ryan, her Ryan, he had to be, staring at him in shock and confusion. She had never been in this situation so quickly before… or ever.

          “W-what did you call me?”

          “I’m sorry Miss, I did not mean to offend, I should not have said anything. Please, dismiss my mistake, forgive me if you will,”

          "Ciamar a tha thu eòlach air Gàidhlig?" _How do you know Gaelic?_ She asked softly, pushing her hand through her hair nervously, only to frown slightly as he looked rather confused. “There’s… there’s nothing to forgive, Ryan. I promise. You just caught me by surprise. I’m not sure I can explain this… I pray you’ll understand I am rather confused.”

          “I-I’m sorry, Miss. I’m afraid I don’t understand… How did you know my name?” Anthea chewed her lip as she tried to figure out what to do, if she should say anything or not, or if she should just explain the absolute basics.

          “You called me your Roman Goddess in Gaelic,” She explained softly, pulling the blanket up to cover her chest as they both tried to figure this out. “You… there is no good way to answer this… Or any of this. You’ll think me mad.” Anthea sighed, not sure what to say, or how to possibly explain this. It didn’t get easier with every passing life. “I know your name because I have known you before. Years ago, ages ago… perhaps I should leave.”

          “No, Anthea please, don’t leave. You are brilliant and very intelligent, and yes, this does seem very… odd, and it doesn’t make much sense, but I would like you to explain this to me. How have you know me from before? And by before, do you mean before tonight? You said years… ages… I am not that old, just barely past my thirtieth birthday…” Anthea paused as Ryan caught her wrist, asking her to stay.

          “Before tonight, the last I saw you was thirty two years ago.” She whispered, knowing that only made this more confusing. “You were my husband, that is how I know your name. You’ve always been Ryan, and you’ve always been mine. You are not old, no, but I am, very much so, though I do not age. I’ve known you through thirteen lives, fourteen now, starting tonight. There is no good way to explain this without sounding insane, and I apologise for that, but any questions you have, any thoughts that pass your mind, please speak them. I may be able to answer them better than simply trying to describe all of this.” She watched as he stilled, clearly thinking and going over what he wanted to ask her, moments passing before he finally spoke again.

          “You are from ancient Rome, am I right?” Anthea nearly laughed in relief when he asked, nodding as she shuffled a little more under the blankets, starting to get chilled with the cold air along her naked back.

          “I am. It was where we first met. You were from Scotland, and you kidnapped me, sort of, though Mycroft would certainly tell the story different than I do. You taught me Gaelic then, and always called me your Roman Goddess.” She said softly, obvious hope in her voice. “You had a memory, didn’t you? That’s why you paused in our… passions. Was that what you remembered?”

          “Well, Miss, it is rather absurd to say, but I wasn’t aware that it was a memory. It was of the same instance, of… passion… rather we were in a different location. A rather small hut, made of wood, lit by the warmth of a fire, and on a wood and straw bed covered with animal hide. It was like nothing I have seen before.” Anthea nodded with a tired smile as she slowly laid back down, gently tugging Ryan back with her to try and ease the tension that was still between them.

          “That was our first life together. It certainly wasn’t much, but it was your home, and we lived there for a few years before I finally convinced you to move to Rome. You hated it though, so we were only there for a short time before we returned back to your home.” She explained, her voice soft in memory before looking back at the other. “I don’t blame you for being confused. It is rare that you remember anything so early, though it is rare that we find ourselves here so early, either.”

          “Prove it to me that this is true. Tell me things about myself that no others would know. If I have lived with you for thirteen lives, there must be some similarities each time, things that only belong to me.” He encouraged, Anthea frowning slightly as she thought back through all their lives together, trying to think of something that would have been something she would have had no reason to notice yet this life. “If you can do such a thing, then I will believe you, Miss. I don’t mean to offend and make you think I believe you a liar, just this is a very odd story to believe and I wish to give you my trust.” Shaking her head to show that she didn’t take the question personally, she finally laughed as she came up with two examples she hoped would work.

          “You are left handed, and you hate melon of every variety. You’re usually not a fan of tomato either, but I have been able to convince you otherwise. I may be Roman, but I’m Italian too, and I make spaghetti a lot.” She chuckled, looking back at Ryan to see if he would accept that answer.

          “I haven’t told anyone that I was left handed for fear people would think I was a witch. Why being left handed makes you of the devil I will never understand, but I have taught myself to use my right hand, albeit very poorly.” He paused, looking to her with wide eyes. “There are so many things I wish to know, but I haven’t the faintest at where to start, or what ever to ask about. I want to know everything… How do I say ‘My Roman Goddess’ in Latin? That was the language of Rome, correct? Your native tongue?”

          “Dea Romana mei.” Anthea translated immediately, never having to think twice about her home language, even after so much time had passed. It was what Mycroft always spoke to her in when they were alone, or when he was upset or simply to keep their conversation private. “Amica mea is my love. Mycroft has always been my closest friend, and is immortal like I am. Gregory is his mate and returns to him like you do to me. Their true relationship is held secret for obvious reasons, as is the fact that we are immortal. There have been times where our kind have been burned at the stake.”

          “No, that doesn’t sound right, the Latin I mean. What was it again in Gaelic?” Anthea smiled at how Ryan’s old dislike for Latin had somehow come back, the man scrunching his nose at the words.  

          “Mo bhan-dia Ròmanach.”

          “Mo bhan-dia Ròmanach.” Smiling at hearing Ryan speak those words again after so long, the accent a tad off, but her chest fluttered all the same.

          “Yes. We are able to heal quickly, almost instantly for the most simple of injuries like cuts and scrapes. It is possible to kill us, yes, but it takes physically destroying our heart or brain…” She blinked in surprise when he physically hushed her, his finger on her lips.

          “I never wish to think of your demise. I do have a question though. You say that we return to you, I do not understand. Is this something that will never end? Will I always have to start from scratch?”

          “It is a cycle until our mate regains their memories of all our past lives together, then they will be able to stay with us. There is nothing that can force it, nor is there any rhyme or reason to when they get their memories back. Some lives you have never remember anything from the past, some lives you have gained little flashes like you did tonight.” She saw the disappointment in his eyes, and it made his next comment hurt that much more, realising the part of her immortality that no one talked about much, the part that tended to harden those to the rest of the world.

          “I leave you… every time. I leave you alone.”

          “I’m one of the lucky ones, you’re never away for long. I often meet you when you’re young, and it is rarely more than twenty some odd years before you are born again. It’s a trade off that yes, I’ve seen you die many times, but it has never been… particularly traumatic, and you’re always back to me within thirty or so years.” She explained, shuffling a little closer and draping her arm over him to hold him. “I’m just glad you haven’t thrown me out yet. You did that once, when I told you after we wed. Took you some time and a lot of explaining before you allowed me back.”

          “Yes, but you have had to watch me grow old and frail, watch me die, and then you were alone. I wasn’t there to comfort you. twenty years, that’s over half of my life now… and that is just until I am born, longer then until you can be with me. I am going to be honest, Miss. I am not certain I am awake and this is not some dream. I am also worried that I am just going to leave you alone again to try this once more. You will watch me grow old, sick, weak… not to mention, I knew there was something about you I liked, but to now be thinking that this is it, I will fall in love with you, we will marry, you are mine… it is a bit odd. I don’t even know you…”

          “Ryan, stop this, please,” Anthea scolded, not wanting the man to overthink everything when there was nothing that could be changed one way or the other. “It’s okay, and we can still take time to learn each other. I am not demanding you marry me tomorrow. There are some traits that carry over life to life, like your name, your voice and that you are left handed, but there are so many other things that are different.” She smiled to herself and looked up at the other, trailing her fingers along his chest with a heavy yawn. “We should probably sleep. Morning might help us both come to this better.”

          “Sleep Miss.” Ryan wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close and pressing another kiss to her forehead. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, all of this weighing heavy on her, but it was nice to have Ryan back in her arms once more.

 

*****

 

_The sun came through the cracks of the window, the faint sound of the village waking up around them filtered in as he groaned, reaching out and finding his wife next to him. Pulling her closer, he smiled as he pressed his nose to the base of her neck, loving the feeling of her against his chest._

_“Madainn mhath mo bhan-dia Ròmanach."_ Good morning my Roman Goddess. _His voice was rough as he peppered her with kisses, feeling her wake up slowly. It had been a few days since the ceremony, since she had decided to stay with him here, in his home, their home. It had been a long time of going back and forth, she traveling back to that Roman camp, and now, she was here. Never once had he thought he would have fallen in love with a Roman, but she was like no other woman he had ever met, and he couldn’t imagine his life without her. This would be their last day of rest before he would be back training the warriors, so he wanted to enjoy what they had left. Neither of them had left the hut for the past few days, everything being brought to them as part of a long tradition for newly joined couples, but no amount of time would be enough with her._

 

          The dream slowly started to fade from him, dream… memory… he wasn’t sure, but he was rather disappointed to find himself alone in his bed, his brows furrowing as he looked about before feeling her get back into the bed.

          "Madainn mhath mo bhan-dia Ròmanach." He murmured, blinking himself awake as he looked down to the woman in front of him.

          “Good morning Mr. Davis. How did you sleep?”

          “I do believe we are past you calling me Mr. Davis, are we not?” Smiling, he leaned in to press a soft kiss to lips, enjoying it for a few moments before groaning and pulling back when he felt the frigid cold from her feet. “While I appreciate that you rose and started the fire once more, must you press your frozen feet against me?” Reaching up, he brushed her hair behind her ears, his hand coming to rest on her cheek as he ran a thumb over her cheek bone.

          “It is not my fault that it is cold!” She laughed, leaning into the touch.  

          “I find myself in the rather precarious situation of not wishing to leave this bed this morning. Though, I do fear that I must be productive today…” Ryan chuckled, leaning in to press another kiss to her lips.

          “Or… I can certainly think of a way or two that you could be rather productive and not leave this bed, if I might be so bold to say,” Anthea offered with a smirk, pushing her hand through his hair. “I only pray the boys won’t be in need of me today and call me away from you just yet.”

          “They would have to fight me off before I would let them take you from me.” Ryan smirked, looking down to her with a laugh. It happened again, except this time, it was a continuation of his dream he had last night, looking down at Anthea through filtered sunlight, the room and bed changing before his eyes. That same smile was still there, the same laughter as she pulled him closer, and again she told him they could stay in bed all day once more. Blinking a couple times, he shook his head, the present coming back to him. If this was to keep happening, someone was bound to notice when he slipped away, and he wasn’t certain he could come up with a good explanation as to why he had lapsed. “I had another memory…” He whispered softly, searching back to last night, recalling the dream that had barely been there when he woke. “We were just joined, you and I. It was the same from the day before. In the morning, we woke, and you were telling me much of the same, that we could spend the day once more in bed together,” Looking up, he caught that crystal blue gaze, those same, deep and ancient eyes looking back at him that he had seen in his memory.

          “They have never been this strong before, not for you to react like this. Often they would simply come as any other memory, or a thought, or a daydream… does it hurt your head? Or is it just disorienting?” She asked softly, and sighing in relief when he shook his head.

          “Is that a good thing? Stronger memories? No, they don’t hurt, they are a tad distracting, and I am certain that if it happens whilst I am around others, they will take notice, but they are not painful. Should they be?” There were so many questions he had, but he knew that more than likely there wasn’t a clear answer for them.

          “Mycroft and I have talked about our partners having gained some of their memories, and I have talked a few times with both my parents and his about their mates becoming immortal. It has never been painful, save Mycroft’s father getting a nose bleed a few times, but that was it. To be honest? I do not know if stronger memories mean much or not, but I do know that you have never remembered anything like this before.” She offered, trailing her fingers over his chest and smiling faintly to herself. “I suppose the best thing is that I do not have to try and figure out how to break all of this to you. I’ll try and keep from triggering memories around others, but I am certain we could find a way to disguise it, should anyone ask.” Laying back down, he smiled as she lay her head on his chest, a hand coming up to trace small circles on her arm.

          “Well, this is fate, and as such, I wouldn’t mind triggering more of these memories, if it means I get to spend the day next to a brilliant, beautiful Miss like yourself,” He was a romantic, anyone could confirm that, but Anthea was unlike any woman he had ever met, most so timid and shy, and eager to prove they could be a good, submissive housewife. He wanted someone with fire in their bones, someone with passion, with intelligence, that he could hold a conversation with. It was one of the reasons he was not favoured with the town as his ideas on propriety did not conform.

          “Why do I always fall for you?” She huffed, Ryan smirking as he pressed another kiss to the top of her head.

          “It must be my charm. Now, you had mentioned previously that there was something we could do to stay productive without the nuisance of having to leave this bed?”

          “I am still expecting you to court me, Mr. Davis…” She paused, looking up to him and Ryan about to defend that he fully intended to, that was till a sly smile crossed her features. “That does not mean I am going to deny us this though…”

 


	3. A Wrinkle In Time - Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Co-written with the lovely Kaitlin
> 
> A look into when Anthea meets Ryan for the final time.

          It had been some time before he heard anything from the Miss, instead, he was shocked when he received an invitation with the initials M H on them, assuming it could only be Mr. Holmes. Beyond the man’s monogram, it just had a location and a time. Rolling his eyes, Ryan set the card down with a shrug and went about his work, a small smirk crossing his features every time he saw the card. When the indicated date came about, he made sure to dress in his finest, sure that this was some meeting and breakdown of, if he ever dared to hurt the Miss, or break her heart, there would be consequences, or whatever the equivalent of that conversation would be for immortals, seeing as it was a bit set in stone. Thanking the server as they took his jacket and hat, he moved over to the table that had been shown to him, turning his head in confusion as he saw the officer and Anthea instead of Mr. Holmes. Clearing his throat, there was a knowing look on the officers face and a pause from the Miss before she turned around and stood to greet him. 

          “Mr. Davis, how wonderful it is to see you again. Allow me to introduce you properly to Officer Graves-Holmes.” 

          “Good evening Miss, I hope this isn’t an intrusion. I received this rather ridiculous invitation to dine here, with Mr. Holmes’ monogram on it, and I assumed this would be some sort of intervention. To my surprise, this is much less… intimidating.” Ryan chuckled, reaching out a hand and shaking the officers.

          “Nice to meet you, Sir. Do you wish to join our table?” 

          “It is nice to meet you Office Graves-Holmes. I am going to assume that this is Anthea’s doing, your name, but I am going to use it,” Winking, he moved to pull out her chair and help her to sit, taking the empty seat between them. 

          “Just Officer Graves, please, or Mr. Graves. Anthea enjoys teasing.” 

          “I did have something to do with that, getting them together this time,” Anthea teased, the officer waving his hand to dismiss the comment and return to his menu. “I am certain this one was why you also received the note to meet us here.” 

          “Guilty,” 

          Anthea rolled her eyes at the man’s admission, turning her should to him and paying more attention to Ryan. “Well, I am glad that you have joined us for what is truly and simply a meal between friends. I had not known you were coming, unfortunately. Mycroft is better at reading people and hiding things from them than I am, though I am happy for the surprise.” 

          “I can see why we fit well together then,” Ryan chuckled, looking over towards the officer. “From what I have been told, this is not the first time we have met, though neither of us actually have in this life?” He questioned, keeping his voice down soft, not wishing for others to overhear their conversation. He could only imagine what others would think should they hear what they were talking about, and if they did, a trip to the asylum would be inevitable. 

          “I am certain I haven’t a clue of what you speak of,” The man murmured back with a bit of a glare, Ryan frowning as to why he was being so stern. Deciding to move on instead of pressing the conversation, he turned to a different subject, wondering if either would open up about it. 

          “If I might ask. Is Mr. Holmes as intimidating as he shows himself to be? He has this persona about him, this air that he keeps and shows, and I am certain that it is for good reasons, but I have a feeling that he is not that way at home, but I could be wrong,” Ryan shrugged, giving the other a smirk as he thanked the server for his wine, the menu out in front of him as well. 

          “Mr. Holmes can be, when he wishes to be. He is a force to be reckoned with, and is a terror to argue with, though he does care deeply about those close to him, even when he would rather not. Of course it is known among the city that we came here escaping the fire, and he has made promises to those that were in charge that he will replace them so that nothing of the sort may ever happen again. Privately, yes, he does at least tone down the force of which he speaks to us.” 

          “If only for his own good,” Anthea added with a faint smirk, the officer laughing and nodding in agreement. “You have nothing to fear with Mr. Holmes, Mr. Davis. If he had any question of you, you would not have been allowed to place your winning bet upon me last week. I would dare say that your money would mean nothing here should he dislike you enough.”

          “I am sure he can be a force, but then there's you, Miss. You are not like any woman I have ever met, very forward, intelligent and fiercely independent. I am certain that you can be a real scare when you wish to be.” Ryan smiled, heat rising to his cheeks when he felt Anthea’s eyes on him. 

          “She has stared down Mycroft on more than one occasion, and has even convinced him to submit once or twice that I have seen. Best of luck to you sir,” 

          “True to that. I do not fear Mr. Holmes. I just wondered how much of him was bark and bite.” The one benefit of having the entirety of Coventry not too pleased with his presence was that he did not intimidate easily. Granted, knowing their history together might help him now, but there had been a point when he was rather… frightened by the man’s essence, but he knew there was more there than he let on. It was clear by the way those who cared for him talked about him, that the man had a soft and caring side that most did not get to see. Thanking the server as they placed their orders, he handed the menus back before turning his attention towards the other two. Looking up at Gregory, Ryan frowned, the setting around them not the same as it was before, but yet… Gregory and Anthea were still there with him, sitting at a table, the lights a bit dimmer as they ate and spoke to one another. Not saying anything, he just looked to the two of them, almost as if this were a movie playing out, watching as they continued to talk in a language he did not understand, nor did he recognise. Before he could gather his wits about him, their attention was on him, both looking at him rather expectantly. Unfortunately, he did not understand what they were saying, or he had missed the question, but he stuttered, not sure how to respond. Closing his eyes for a moment, he heard them saying his name, taking a deep breath and slowly opening his eyes once more to the restaurant as it was now. 

          “Ryan,” Anthea said softly, reaching out and resting her hand lightly on his wrist. “Are you alright?” She asked gently, rubbing her thumb along his hand. “What did you see?” Finally the language was familiar and he could understand, looking to Anthea when she spoke. 

          “It was like now… but in a house? You were both speak a language I don’t recognise at all, sounded very… very angry, very spoken from the throat almost? I apologise, it is very hard to explain,” Ryan started, sighing as he took another sip of water. “We, us three, were eating a meal together. It was very dark and only lit by candles, and the two of you were talking. Then… well you both looked to me as if you were asking me a question, but I didn’t understand, and that’s when I, well I came back?” None of it made sense, and he was sure that it would be difficult to pinpoint exactly what life he had just flashed back to, but hopefully they could pick out more from that than he could. 

          “German? I had lost my home in Berlin to a fire and you were housing me after,” The officer offered, pausing for a moment in what looked like surprise before chuckling and rubbing his neck. “Perhaps we are both to have new revelations to our past lives tonight,” 

          “German is not an angry language, Gregory. Just because it is not a romantic language does not mean it is cruel,” Anthea shot back. 

          “Only because you speak it, Anthea. Those of us who do not, when we hear it, it’s quite harsh. We were just speaking of the fire, so it would be within reason to cause a memory just like any other time in reference to current events.” As the two of them were going back and forth about what it could have been, Ryan closed his eyes, trying to sort things out. He had never heard German, and there hadn’t been any clues that it had been Berlin. The home didn’t look too off from what he would have seen in England during past times… or did it? That’s not something he would have known, he wasn’t a professor in history, nor did he know the history of homes and what they looked like. The only thing he had to compare to was the hut he had seen in his memories of early times, back during the Roman empire some time. 

          “I’m sorry, I am just having a bit of a hard time placing everything. I do apologise, but I am not well educated in history, so I wouldn’t be able to tell you what the age was, as I cannot tell you what homes would look like, or clothes or anything that might clue you in. I just realised that my memory from the other night, I cannot place that either. I do not know what time that was, only that you are from Rome, and the only fact I am privy to for Roman time periods is that it expanded to cover decades.” Sighing, he sat back with a defeated look on his face, feeling rather out of place between the two of them. 

          “That… that first meeting would have been around what is now considered to be the year three hundred A.D. Do not worry yourself should you not be able to immediately place a time or location, Mr. Davis. Only if it was happy or not. If you were happy or not. Should it have been Berlin, that would have been about seven hundred years later, and about seven lives later. In fact it would have been the seventh for the both of you.” The numbers still did not mean much to him, or help him place anything at all. She said that it only mattered if he was happy or not, and honestly, there hadn’t been much to go on if he was or not, just a brief conversation that he couldn’t understand, and the two of them looking to him with questioning glances. How was it that the officer seemed so at ease with all of this? He thought maybe he had a grip on what he was getting himself into, but every time his mind wandered to it, he felt even more lost, as if none of this would work out. She had seen so much, was so wise, and knew things beyond the scope of anyone alive. How was he compared to that? Here he was, a simple man living in this time, without nearly the intelligence and wealth she had, yet she still insisted that she loved him. He did not even know her. 

          “Thank you Miss. Your words are kind. If it isn’t too much to ask, I think I need a moment of fresh air,” Excusing himself from the table, he knew it was rather rude to leave in the middle of a meal, but his head was swimming and he feared any more talk, or perhaps another memory and he might go mad. Making his way outdoors, Ryan took a deep breath of fresh air, the night sky greeting him as he stepped out, feeling a tad better and less closed in. It didn’t take long before he heard the door open and a voice speak to him, surprised they hadn’t waited just a tad longer to confront him. 

          “I’m torn between yelling at you for upsetting Miss Anthea, or simply handing over my pipe to you. I have been with Mr. Holmes for a couple of years now, so I have had time to learn about what all of this means. You’ve hardly had a week. I would like to think that I would be strong and not panic if I were in your position, but… well, it is insanity to even think such a thing is possible, what they talk about.” 

          “I have always wished to get married, have a strong independent wife, and upon meeting the Miss, I thought I had come across great fortune. Now I am more lost than ever. She states that we must learn each other, but she knows me far better than most, and has had… well I do believe she had said thirteen, though I am not quite certain, other lives with me. What is the point in denying the truth, why should I not just take a vow and be with her now? We are to be wed, it has happened before, or so I am told, and will keep happening. Then again, I still am not certain I haven’t lost my wits and am just believing what they say is true. The only proof, so to speak, that I have is that she knew of my left handedness.” Ryan sighed, reaching out for the man’s pipe, hoping that he would take pity on him and let him have a drag. Thankfully the man did, handing it over as he took a drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs. Ryan breathed out slowly, nodding and listening to the other when he mentioned Mycroft and their meeting in this life. 

          “Mr. Holmes said that I always have the same eyes and smile, and that I always have the same name. He simply waved me off when I pointed out that Gregory is hardly an uncommon name to have compared to the likes of Mycroft or Sherlock. The way I understand it, is that while we may be fated to be with them, there is also a measure of free will. The bond can be broken, though I dare not ask what comes after that happens for either party involved. You are panicking over these memories, over the thought of having to love some you do not know. Do you think that would make a happy union? Yes, perhaps Anthea already loves you, but she is reasonable and knows that you do not know her. Allow for it to come naturally to you, least it be forced and everything unravels.” Moving to take another puff, he heard that this wasn’t set in stone, his eyes going wide and coughing at the shock as he handed the pipe back to the other, trying to get his breathing back to normal. 

          “I can break this bond? I can make it so we are not fated?” His voice was a bit louder than he had intended, but the words were not comforting, instead they filled him with even more dread. Anthea had lived centuries searching time and time for him, working to get him back for however many years, before he left her alone and in grief yet again. What he didn’t realise was that he could mess this up permanently so that she never achieved the goal she was working towards. The past however many years would be for naught… while he was still unsure about being with the beautiful and brilliant woman he had just met, the one thing he did know was that he did not wish to cause her any pain or harm or grief, and knowing that he could do so and so bad that centuries of life afterwards might not heal her wounds… that certainly did not make him settle his stomach. 

          “From what little I’ve heard it explained, it takes quite… pardon the language, but it takes quite the fuck up to truly break the bond. Not instantaneously falling in love will do nothing, nor will taking time to get to know one another. I feel that it’s more should you reject her outright. Say, for the sake of explanation, she… murder your entire family before you. While Miss Anthea may be terrifying in her rage, she would never do such a thing, though I can attest that she has quite the strong arm when she wishes. Should something happen that is so beyond your merits that you lose all attraction towards her in every way, that is when the bond is broken. Walking out of a restaurant because your head is racing with do little but bruise an ego. You needn’t worry on that front, Mr. Davis. That is why she wishes to get to know you though, and not force you into anything. She wishes to do this right, just as Mycroft did. It is new territory for everyone that you have had such a strong memory so soon, and that she found herself explaining everything the first day. Mycroft didn’t tell me until we were already engaged.” While the explanation did calm him some, his heart and mind were still racing as he thought about all that the officer was telling him. 

          “I do wish to get to know her, to court her as any man would be lucky to, I just find it very difficult when I feel I am on a very different page than the Miss, as well as these damned memories coming to haunt me. Maybe to some they would be comforting, but they make it very difficult to tell what is now and what isn’t, and they make getting to know her very difficult as they give me a false sense of companionship towards her. I must sound foolish, as you have gone through this already and you know where you stand within all of this, but I feel as if I am drowning.” It was a lot to take in, and when he was trying to start something new, it was difficult when they weren’t playing the same game. “I fear I am trying to make all of this seem as if I am courting a normal woman, and we will have a normal life, because that is what I have always wanted, well, to a degree. This is by far, the most not normal of situations I have ever found myself in.” 

          “You don’t sound foolish at all, Mr. Davis, I assure you. I only know that I stand as Mr. Holmes’ mate, and by that, one of Anthea’s closest friends. They have been best of friends throughout the centuries, to the point that they may as well be brother and sister, and that she allows myself and Mr. Holmes to have the life we wish, without being outed to the community as an abomination of sin, that is something I can only be eternally grateful for. As for everything else, I have had memories now and again, yes, but nothing as dramatic as yours have been. They have been more as you saw today, simply little passing thoughts that I did not even realise I knew until it is already out of my mouth. I can assure you, from the few years that I have known Anthea, she would want nothing more than to be courted as if everything was normal, as long as you allow her to be who she is, which is strong and independent.” Thanking the man as he handed the pipe off to him again, he took a few long puffs off of it, closing his eyes and just trying to will away the headache that was starting to form. 

          “Yes, but how does one go and court a woman as if everything is normal when it most certainly is not? I cannot seem to help when these flashes happen, and they are most visible, so I can not hide that fact either. They make it hard to discern what I know because I have lived it, and what I know because it was in my past.” His one desperate wish was to know exactly how to handle this, and he had a sinking feeling that there wasn’t an easy way to do so. It came with time, and that time to him, seemed very pressing and short lived. Soon he would be married to this woman he had only just met, and if these memories came as often as they had been, he wouldn’t know which time he was currently residing in. 

          “So allow for those times to blend with her, Mr. Davis. You forget that this has been her life too, she will most certainly understand. She was shocked by your memory from Rome because she did not realise it was you, though she hoped that it was from how attracted she had found herself to you. Even with that silly voice of yours,” The office teased, Ryan running a hand over the back of his neck as he let out another sigh, swallowing hard and trying to push the nerves back down. “Do not worry about the future right now, Mr. Davis. Follow the time frame that you wish for this to take. Think of it this way. While she may know Ryan, she does not know Mr. Davis. Grant her the chance to get to know you while you get to know her as well. Everything else will fall into place if it is truly fated, don’t you think?” There wasn’t anything he could do, this was just it, he was rather helpless to this situation, he couldn’t force memories, nor could he force anything between them. The lack of control was what made him more of a wreck than anything, but floundering and trying to find a way to get the reigns once more would do no one any good, and might actually make things worse. For once in his life, he was going to have to learn to be helpless. 

          “Right.” It wasn’t all convincing, but thankfully the man didn’t seem to press it any further, instead they walked back inside and took their seats, Ryan apologising to the Miss. He was just going to try and make it through the rest of dinner without storming off once more in a nervous fit. 

*****

          Anthea smiled weakly as Gregory and Ryan came back to the table, having very nearly ripped the sewing along the edge of her napkin in her lap in nerves as she waited for them to return. While she wasn’t the biggest fan of having to pretend to be meek and submissive in this time frame, being stood up or walked out on wasn’t exactly something she enjoyed either. More than content to steer the conversation away from anything that had just happened, Anthea kept the subject on the masquerade and the funds and what they had done for the school house, talking about what they had already done and what they planned for the future. Soon enough they were done and Gregory had taken care of the bill, the three of them standing outside as they waited for Mr. Holmes’ carriage to come around. 

          “I am sorry that tonight didn’t go better for you, Mr. Davis. I will speak to Mycroft about sending you such secret invitations.” Anthea said after a moment, nervously fidgeting with the seam of her dress again. “Will I be able to see you again soon?” 

          “Mr. Graves. Might it be acceptable with you if I escorted the Miss back home? There is far too much of a chill outside, and I am certain I could walk her home quicker than the carriage could arrive.” 

          “It’ll only be-” Gregory started to argue before Anthea cleared her throat and gave him a pointed glare, daring to inch a little closer towards Ryan’s side as she leaned into his touch along her back. It was comforting to her that he was trying to find an excuse to give so they could spend a little more time together, instead of using the excuse of the night to run away. “I… yes. Of course, Mr. Davis. I’ll see you at home then,” 

          “Thank you,” She said softly, holding her hand out, waiting for Ryan to offer his arm for her before they started down the street. It really was a terrible lie, but thankfully the chill wasn’t too terrible when the wind wasn’t blowing around them, and they had both worn heavy jackets to dinner to keep them warm in the carriage. “I’m sorry these memories only cause you panic, Ryan. I wish I could help you more, but I feel that I only create more worry with every explanation I try and offer you. You’ve never remembered anything like this before, so it is new territory for me as well, I don’t know how to handle this either.” Anthea yelped in surprise as she was suddenly taken into an alleyway and kissed, only just aware of the brick against her back as she melted into the action after the briefest of pauses to realise it was even happening.

          “My apologies Miss, but I had to be certain. Yes, these memories have got my nerves in a twist, but I am not certain of anything right now, except for one thing. You. I have never felt this attracted to someone I knew so little about, or so intrigued by another. I apologise for how I acted earlier, but I want to continue this courtship, if it pleases you Miss.” 

          “Ryan,” She whispered as she blinked back to reality, her hands resting on his hips as she looked to him. “I do, yes… perhaps not in an alley, but yes,” She agreed with a weak laugh, leaning up onto her toes to kiss him once more to assure him that she didn’t mind. “I don’t know how to help you, and for that I am truly sorry, but I do want to figure this out together. I still have so much to learn about you in this life, we don’t have to focus on the past unless you wish. I just want to be happy and with you.” 

          “Hush, Miss. It is not something that either of us knows how to handle or help, but I have decided that if I am going to let this happen and be helpless, I would rather like to do so with you. How upset would the married couple you live with be if you did not come home right away?” Anthea allowed herself to be bold as she moved her hands from Ryan’s hips to his back, pulling him close as she kissed him one last time before pulling away. 

          “Should they be upset, I’ll blame Mycroft. Though I am certainly telling you now that you will take me from this alleyway before anything else happens.” She shot back with a laugh, her nervousness that had built up melting away. There had always been a fierce protectiveness to him that everyone had joked more than once was necessary to keep up with her, but it was half the reason why she always felt so liberated to be as forward and blunt as she dared to be, knowing that he would only be right there with her, ready to step up should anyone dare challenge her. It had always been that way since their first life together, sometimes for the best, and sometimes leading to a few ugly brawls in her name. “I do certainly believe your home is closer anyway,” 

          “Right, it wouldn’t be decent to find us here, in the alleyway, in such entanglements,” Ryan chuckled, stepping away and taking her hand on his arm once more. The walk home was short, and Ryan was amusing as he looked about to make sure not one was looking before letting her into his home and closing the door behind them. Anthea blew into her hands to warm them once they were back inside, rolling her eyes as Ryan joked about the obvious reasons they were here. “I do not hope that you think I am only in this for sensual pleasures. While I do admit, it does not look good that both times I have courted you on a night out, it has ended this way…” 

          “Does it not? I would think it be impressive among your friends, the way you speak of how the town views you,” She teased, her heart racing as the man stepped closer towards her, the two of them watching each other before she broke first and stepped forward, reaching up to rest her hands on his chest as she leaned up to kiss him. She wasn’t short by most opinion, but Ryan was taller this life, and she found that she kind of enjoyed the feeling of being smaller this time. 

          “Well, it might be impressive that I got the elusive ‘Governments Doll’ to bed me twice, but…” Anthea rolled her eyes at that ridiculous name, only adding to the mental list of things she needed to speak with ‘the boys’ about, but her breath caught when Ryan picked her up and pressed her to the wall once more, any sort of argument disappearing as he kissed along her neck and finding that spot that made her melt. “Next time, I promise to be an upstanding gentlemen and to court you, treat you like a queen, and return you home with your integrities intact,” 

          “Where’s the fun in that?” She breathed with a shiver, pulling him back just far enough to be able to kiss him again, her hand pushing through his hair as they simply explored one another. “It sounds sweet, but I feel like this is far more… you. Or you wouldn’t be so willing, would you, Mr. Davis?” 

          “Miss, are you accusing me of being a casanova?” Ryan tried to hide a smile, but failed when she rolled her eyes. “You are one to speak so plainly Miss. I do fear that you are also very willing. Am I wrong in saying so?” Anthea gasped as Ryan ran his hand along her thigh and past her underthings, whimpering as he teased her with his fingers before pulling away once more. That was just cruel, not that she was really able to argue against his questions of if she was willing or not. She was, terribly so, as she had clearly shown her hand even before now. Anthea watched as he licked at his fingers, a small gasp escaping her as she leaned forward to kiss him, moaning at the taste of herself on his lips as she tried to find some sort of relief. 

          “I’m willing to be in your bed. Not just teased up against the wall,” She shot back, hoping he would get the point and move on from here. 

          “Oh, is that so? I did not realise you were able to give any demands when you had nothing to give just yet,” Anthea raised an eyebrow when Ryan challenged that she had nothing to offer, very much ready to argue that she was the one with tits and a vagine, but then he was moving her into a chair and very nearly climbing under her dress to tease her. 

          “Oh,” She breathed, finding herself shifting around to make it just a little easier for him to give her what she wanted. Thought apparently, it wasn’t going to be that easy, the man simply trailing along her leg painfully slow as Anthea let out a frustrated huff. 

          “Do tell me Miss, what is it that you wish for me to do?” 

          “I want your mouth on me. I want to feel you in me, Liebe, I want you. Though I thought I wasn’t allowed demands,” She drawled out, a bit of German slipping just from the conversation earlier. 

          “Mmm, you want me… here?” He questioned, Anthea shivering again as she felt his tongue teasing along her entrance, groaning as she pressed her head back against the chair she was in. He was cruel, terribly so, and yet she only wanted more as he continued to kiss along her legs, her skirts keeping her from really being able to see what he was doing. 

          “Ryan, please… you know exactly what I want. I am sure you want this too, or you wouldn’t have pressed for me to be here with you,” She pointed out, moaning once more as she felt him teasing just along those most sensitive parts. “Please…” 

          “Mmm, I do want this, but there is something I wish for more, and that is to see you lose yourself to pleasure,” Anthea shivered as Ryan passed his tongue over her, her eyes drifting shut as she focused on that instead of chasing after him, her legs spreading just a little more against her will as he kissed once more along her thigh. 

          “Dammit Ryan, bitte,” She moaned, digging her nails into the arm of the chair and half kicking out when she heard him laugh. “It is very hard to get lost in the pleasure of things when you won’t give me a thing,” She was squirming now, trying to be patient and play by Ryan’s rules, but her body was simply screaming for more, for anything and she was half tempted to pull her skirts up and take care of it herself. “Ich brauche dich, bitte,”  _ I need you, please.  _ Anthea moaned finally as Ryan gave her something, not enough to truly give her release, but anything was better than feeling him so close yet getting nothing. Meeting her mate was always a catch twenty two of sorts, a bit of pride when she was his first and only, but having to teach him what felt good, or the low jealousy that came with meeting him later but enjoying the tricks he had learned with experience. “Ryan,” She whispered, shivering as he flicked his tongue over that little bundle of nerves before pulling away and pinning her down as she tried to rock into him. “Du bist grausam,”  _ You are cruel.  _ She laughed in frustration, glaring up at the ceiling, only to gasp again as he started once more. “I want you. Bitte. Te requiro…”  _ Please. I need you… _

          “I love when you sound so very desperate, Miss,” Anthea cursed under her breath as she felt Ryan pull away, that slow building energy growing in her gut, starting to fade away as he spoke. Tempted once more to kick him, she dug her fingers into the chair before sitting up a bit and pulling her skirts back so she could give him a proper glare. 

          “I don’t like you anymore. Working me up only to tease me. I should do the same to you,” She sulked, though there was little bite to her words as she still squirmed in her chair and caught her breath as she felt his hand move to push inside her. “What is it that you want from me? I will give you nearly anything,” 

          “I want to push the limits, see what makes you lose that well craft control, Miss. You said we have much to learn about one another, I am only trying to take that to heart and learn what I can.” 

          “You’re about to make me lose that well crafted control with my shoe up your arse,” Anthea muttered under her breath, the vast majority of her fight taken from her as Ryan started working her over with his mouth and hand, moaning and shivering as he seemed to hit all the right spots but just not enough to push her over. “Please,” She begged, tossing control and niceties aside as an idea came to mind. Waiting for him to pull away for a moment to catch his breath, Anthea slid off the chair and down into Ryan’s lap, rocking against the pronounced bulge in his trousers with a smirk. “Ist das was du willst?”  _ Is this what you want?  _ She asked in a lust filled whisper, pressing their foreheads together and not quite letting him kiss her as they rocked against one another. “To have me on the floor? Fiat mihi in vobis: Ryan, amica mea, mi vir,”  _ Let me have you, Ryan, my love, my husband.  _ Anthea gasped as she felt Ryan pull himself out under her, shifting around herself to get into a more comfortable position before they both moan in pleasure when they were finally joined.

          "Ah, mo chridhe, tha thu foirfe, tha thu a 'faireachdainn foirfe."  _ Ah, my heart, you are perfect, you feel perfect.  _ Laughing softly as Ryan spoke to her in Gaelic again, she kissed him deeply as they rocked against one another, still not quite in the perfect position to get off, but it was far better than just being teased. She wanted to say that she loved him, but she was afraid of scaring him off after the day they’d already had, so she kept it quiet, even after the endearments he was spilling. Perhaps he didn’t know what he was saying, but either way, it made her heart burst with joy to hear those words again, to have this man back to her once more, with the dangerous hope that maybe, just maybe, this would be the last time. 

          “Ich liebe dich,” Anthea whispered, purposefully picking German that time as they continued to rock against each other, arching her back as he pushed into her and hit that sweet spot deep inside. “Christ, just like that, Ryan, please,”  

          "Tha? A bheil thu ag iarraidh seo?"  _ Yes? Is this what you want?  _ “Mo ghaol, crìochnaich dhomhsa,"  _ My love, finish for me.  _ It didn’t take much longer for Anthea before she was crying out Ryan’s name as she came, her legs shaking under her as she clinched tight around the man, letting him use her to reach his end as well. Mostly collapsing onto the floor, Anthea found herself starting to giggle at the ridiculousness of it all, Ryan talking about her status and shielding her from the gossip, yet here they were not even able to make it to the bed or to get undressed before they were after one another. Gingerly climbing off Ryan and settling against his side, she laid a hand over his chest and smiled as he lifted it to his lips. 

          “I’ve missed hearing you speak Gàidhlig. Our first couple lives were in Scotland, then we moved as Mycroft chased after Gregory, trying to find where he would come back, but I was always lucky that you weren’t far from me.” 

          “What do you mean? I don’t speak Gaelic, except the one phrase you taught me…” Anthea frowned slightly at that before simply letting it go, not wishing to upset Ryan again with everything. 

          “You do in the throes of passion.” She teased fondly, leaning up on an elbow to kiss away his frown. “You won’t find a complaint from me, my dear. Only a request that you do not tell Mycroft or Gregory of our find. While they may be my dearest friends, and I have lived with Mycroft for some time, they are not nearly as secretive of their love making as they would believe themselves to be.” Anthea pointed out, her nose scrunched. “I do say that we try and at least make it to the bedroom next time,” 

          “The idea of saying anything of the sort to Mr. Holmes, as much as I think he isn’t quite as terrifying as he lets on, sounds very… unhealthy and unwise.” Ryan chuckled. “Yes, well that might be some time, I did promise you that I intend to take you out and court you. I wish for you to see that you are a lady worth courting properly, and not someone I just intend to bed. Though, I will not complain that you are rather adventurous and I do find myself liking that, but I do not think continuing to lie here on the floor would be beneficial for either of us. Stay the night with me once more, Miss?” Anthea chuckled as Ryan promise that he would treat her right, chewing her lip as the man asked her to stay the night. There wasn’t much of any reason to worry that others would see her the next day as she could call a carriage and be taken home. 

          “You are a silly man, Mr. Davis. I would be happy to stay the night with you, though I do certainly expect for you to start courting me properly. Eventually. For now it is fun to shrug off social expectations with you, behind these walls. I do know my worth though, you needn’t worry about proving that to me,” She said with a smile, taking his hand as he offered it to her to stand. She could tell that although there was some hesitation on his part, he wasn’t about to let this get the best of him without a fight, and she would be right there with him the entire time as she had so many times before. 


	4. A Wrinkle In Time - Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Co-written with the lovely Kaitlin
> 
> A look into when Anthea meets Ryan for the final time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this, we did it mostly to showcase Ryan and Anthea after we had so much fun writing their meeting in Holmes Everlasting, but also to showcase how gaining memories is different for each person, and it doesn't the matter of time they are together, and it doesn't have to be dramatic how it comes to them, it's unique, just like every couple is! We plan to keep writing more and have already started on our next one shot, and are always looking for suggestions and recommendations, so keep them coming!

          It was a beautiful day, the sun out and shining and the temperature had warmed enough for it to be pleasant outside. He had originally planned on spending the day indoors, but a change of plans was prudent when he saw the lovely opportunity they had been presented with. Slipping outside and offering his arm to Anthea, Ryan smiled as he started down the street, the sun feeling warm on his skin as a fresh breeze kissed his face. 

          “Where are you taking me today, Mr. Davis?” 

          “I had thought to keep us indoors, but that would be a crying shame with the weather today. Now I think a nice walk in the park and maybe a picnic later on would be better suited, if you are so inclined,” Holding up his other arm, he showed her the basket with a smile. “After all, we must take advantage of this sunshine while it lasts.” 

          “Thank you kindly for thinking of making us a picnic. Knowing England, this weather will be gone tomorrow, and I would be sad to miss out on it,” Ryan smiled as she leaned into his side, just happy to walk with her as they rounded the corner and towards the park, families spread about and children running. “It has been too long since I have been able to play as they do. I miss it sometimes, don’t you?” Looking down at Anthea, his smile quickly faded as the scene changed before him. They were still in a park, but it wasn’t England, though the buildings still looked vaguely familiar. It was far warmer, and their dress was different as well, Ryan listening to Anthea as she spoke. 

_           “He just needs to get out, it’s been a while and it will do him good.” He wasn’t sure who she was talking about, but he did recognise the language. Gaelic, it seemed to be a common one through his past. Just then, a young boy darted out in front of them, looking back in their direction as a smile spread across his face. He knew the boy, or at least, he thought he did, but he couldn’t place it. “See, he just needed some time outside the house. I fear the constant studies mixed with his recent bout of sickness have made him a tad stir crazy,” Anthea laughed, her gaze still focused on the younger boy. The two of them moved throughout the park, never wandering too far from the boy who was running and tumbling, clearly enjoying the freedom of being able to stretch his legs. When they found a nice spot in the shade, the two of them laid out a blanket, taking a seat next to one another and smiling as the boy rushed back to them. “You keep playing, we’ll set up lunch. I promise, we will call you when it’s ready Seamus.” So, the boy did have a name, that gave him some context, but he still didn’t know where or when he was. The only constant was Anthea, here by his side, the one thing that always stayed the same when this happened. “It was nice of you to come along today, Sir. You didn’t have to accompany us, but we do appreciate it. I know your brother will never say it aloud, but he does enjoy spending time with you,” Ryan turned back to her, not quite sure what to say, but knowing that she was expecting an answer.  _

_           “Yes, well, it was too nice of a day to spend indoors, and I don’t get to spend enough time with Seamus,” Lucky for him, the words came out in Gaelic, and the answer seemed to make her smile, these memories getting far easier to navigate when at least the language stayed the same. He sat for some time, watching his brother, a smile on his face and Anthea by his side, that was till he heard his name once more, looking over to her as the memory started to fade out and England came back.  _

          “Ryan,” Anthea said after another moment, rubbing the back of her hand and smiling gently to him. “Seamus was a sweet boy, smart as a whip too. You started a business and he joined you once he was old enough, eventually taking over and passing it on to his children. I was his nanny, and he always talked about you, everyday. You loved me almost as much as you loved that boy, and I was never once jealous.” Frowning when she started on about Seamus, he wasn’t sure how she knew what he had just seen. 

          “But… how?” He questioned, still confused, his mind half hazy from coming back. “How did you know what I saw? I mean, you are correct, but still…” Taking a look around, he noted that they were no longer in the same location either, and he was still with her on a blanket and the picnic was unpacked. What exactly had he all missed? 

          “You were speaking, much like one talking in their sleep,” So he spoke out loud, and he guessed that whatever he said in his memory, he said in real time. “You were lost for ten minutes, maybe longer. I brought you over so you wouldn’t stumble or hurt yourself. Though I know it is confusing for you, I am glad the park brought back such happy memories. You were always so… excited, that life. To show me everything in Ireland, to share your schooling with me… You taught me to read and write Gaelic then, something I couldn’t do before.” Nodding when she slid a plate in front of him, he picked at the food, still feeling a tad off. At the mention of happy memories, a thought came to his mind that he had not pondered previously. 

          “Are there bad memories that I will experience? What would they be of? I can’t imagine there is anything particularly horrid as you said nothing traumatising happened.” Ryan’s brow furrowed as he took another bit, sticking with things that were rather tame as he always felt a tad queasy when he came back. 

          “When you gain your memories, you will gain  _ all  _ of them back. The good and the bad that each life carries, including your deaths, the families and friends you have lost with time… the times that were clouded with melancholy, but also the times that were bright with joy like today. Everything returns, and everything that comes with that.” He should have assumed that would be the case, but until now he didn’t think about gaining them all and having to experience it almost as an outsider. It was an abstract concept to ponder, especially thinking of his deaths. So far everything he had experienced was good, happy, or neutral, nothing had been less than. “There were battles and wars you fought in, but there were also such wonderful things that you have done. You saved and protected me on multiple occasions. There will always be more good than bad, but the bad hurts and can distract us from that fact.” 

          “Well… no point in dwelling on what I cannot remember yet. I cannot control these, and I will just cross that bridge when it comes, with you by my side. I am certain I can make it through them with you.” Ryan smiled, taking her hand in his. 

          “I was thankful that you and your family were so generous and happy. Mycroft had lost Gregory to the plague and was distraught in his grief and fear that he would not return again. We moved to a small town in Greece, but he sent me away a few years later wanting to be alone. After our marriage and Seamus took over, we moved to live with Mycroft for a time, returning again to Ireland after your youngest sister had married and started a family of her own.” The Plague, that was something he hadn’t thought about. 

          “Can immortals get sick or contract diseases?” He knew early on she had said there were very few ways they could die, but sickness was never something that was mentioned, or possible birth defects for that matter. Ryan loved science and studying such things, though the human body was still something they had much to learn about. The possibilities of a self healing body were endless, and he could only imaging the field day scientists would have should they discover someone was immortal. 

          “We can get sick, sort of. I think I may have contracted the plague as well, but it hardly showed as anything different than a simple cold. When we are children, we tend to have many of the same illnesses as you would, but in a lesser state.” Ryan paused, nodding as he thought about how to ask his next question. 

          “Why would Mycroft have worried that Gregory was not to return, if they had not broken their bond? From what I have been told, it sounds like they were together and very much in love, so wouldn’t that have brought him back?” The officer had briefly explained this to him, and he knew there was still much to learn, but if he were to stay with Anthea, these were questions he would have to know. 

          “It was not a gentle death, and they had not been together for ten years when he passed. They were in love, but to be taken so early… we simply didn’t know.” 

          “So there are more ways to lose one another? Gregory explained that it was rather difficult to do such a thing, but I am learning there is more than I previously thought...” Ryan frowned, taking a bite of their food as his stomach started to growl. “I know I said I do not wish to speak of your demise, and I do not. I apologise if this is prying, but I just wish to understand what will be my future someday.” His voice was quiet as he could tell this was a rather sensitive subject for her.

          “There are things we… assume, about what keeps our mates beside us and what causes them to leave. There are ways to lose them that we know from stories shared among the community, but… well, there are always fears that are hard to let go of until they are back at our side, and others that will never be let go of until they are here for good.” She said, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear as she looked to him with a weary smile. “The time you sent me away after our wedding and I had told you of my immortality, I was terrified I had lost you. Clearly I had not, but the fear will always remain.” He could understand the fear, especially if they were unclear on just how this all worked. For some reason, Ryan thought they would have a set of rules, but it was not like he had a handbook on how life as a mortal worked. 

          “If I could stop your fears and stay with you, I would. I only wish I could solve this puzzle, as I don’t like to think of you alone and waiting.” Of course she had Mycroft and the officer when the man came back around again, but if he was what she said he was to her, then he should be there for her at all times. 

          “I know my dear. You have always tried to care for me, even when I haven’t needed your help,” Frowning at that statement, he rolled his eyes when the woman started laughing, looking out at the park. “I have always been a strong woman, something you have said, both mentally and physically. I broke your best mates arm in our first life when he tried to kiss me, and there was one life that you were quite cross with me for beating you repeatedly at chess and you would only ever challenge me to darts as you’ve a better aim than I.” It did not surprise him in the least that she had broken a man’s arm, or that she was wickedly smart. It shouldn’t even be something that phased him any longer. “Never mind sorting out the memories for now. Of all the times that I have asked about you returning to me for good, those who have their mates have always assured me that I will know when that time has come. I know that it is disorienting for you, and that I am sorry it seems that it must be that way, but I suppose it could be worse.” 

          “You will know when I have gained all my memories, or you will know when this life is the last and I will remember?” Was there some sort of premonition they had when it was the last go around? If so, why hadn’t she felt that way with him, was he to die once more and leave her? That feeling did not sit well, Ryan setting down the sandwich as he took a sip of water, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

          “I will know when you have gained your memories back. There is no true sign, but I have had it explained that it is like a flame taking to kindling. There is a brightness and an assurance that will be known once it comes to pass. As I’ve said many times before though, until then, I am simply glad to have you back again.” She said fondly, leaning over to kiss him, Ryan a tad surprised but he cupped her cheek nonetheless, smiling against those lips as he hummed in appreciation. “I know that I ask you the same again and again, but please don’t worry about these things. I am happy, and each of your memories returned only serves as a reminder of how happy we have been before, and gives me hope that perhaps it is your last time. You have already remembered more than any other time before, it is foolish to not dare hope.” 

          “I only worry because I find myself falling head over heels for you Miss. You have stolen my heart, and each time I gain a new memory, I am reminded of how lucky I am that you would wish to come back to me each time. I know it is foolish to say, but we have thrown all rules to the wind as it is…” Ryan paused, looking into her brilliant blue eyes. “I will not be leaving you again, Anthea. I promise,” There wasn’t anything they knew that would keep him here, or make his statement true, but he was going to try and trigger as many he could, as he had no intentions of ever leaving her alone again. 

          “I would watch your words, Mr. Davis, as we are in public and you make me want to behave rather inappropriately,” Smirking at the statement, Ryan gave a knowing wink as he took another drink of water. 

          “Well, maybe I should continue. After all… it has been quite some time since I have tried to get you into my bed, what with trying to be a gentleman and all.” A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest as he relaxed. It had been some time, and they had teased each other, but he was true to this word. He wanted to court her right, show her that he cared, and though he may have wanted to take her home on a few occasions, overall he was happy, and content with just having her near. 

 

*****

 

          Moaning softly as the morning sun woke her through the curtains, Anthea shuffled out from under the blankets to draw them more shut than they had been before grabbing her socks to keep Ryan from complaining about her cold feet as well. Looking down at her otherwise naked body, along with the scattering of love bites on her breasts and stomach, Anthea chuckled to herself before grabbing one of Ryan’s undershirts to cover herself with for now as she stoked the fire back from the coals that had burned out overnight. There was a familiarity with the motions, somehow feeling far more domestic in Ryan’s room than when she was home with Mycroft and Gregory. Hearing the man mutter something from under the bedsheets, Anthea grinned as she moved to sit on the edge beside him, pulling the blanket down from where he had pulled it up over his face and kissing the mess of curls on his head. 

          “Good morning sleepyhead.” 

          “Tha mi a 'mionnachadh boireannach, ma chuireas tu na casan fuar orm orm a-rithist …”  _ I swear woman, if you put those cold feet on me again…  _ Anthea grinned as Ryan spoke to her in Gaelic, not even questioning at first as it seemed to be something he often did in his sleep. “Guten Morgen Liebe. Komm zurück wo es warm ist.”  _ Good morning love, come back where it is warm.  _ About to assure him that she had put on some socks just for him, she faltered when he started speaking German, something he hadn’t done before. 

          “Sei quello con il naso freddo,”  _ You are the one with the cold nose,  _ She shot back at him as he nuzzled back into her neck, speaking softly in Italian to try and see if he would understand or not. It wasn’t one she had ever spoken around him, even in Mycroft’s company as they always reverted to Latin. “Cosa hai sognato ieri sera?”  _ What did you dream of last night?  _

          “Why are you asking me questions to make me think so early in the morning? I do not remember my dreams, but I would like to go back to sleep. Neither of us have anywhere to be. Sleep, love.” Anthea wanted to cry from joy as Ryan answered her as if it was second nature to him, torn between shaking him awake or letting him sleep just a little longer. Realising that even in the amount of time it took to ponder her thought Ryan was already gone once more, she sighed and curled into his chest, still unable to get rid of the grin across her face. 

          “Am fear gòrach. Tha gaol agam ort.”  _ My silly man, I love you.  _ She whispered into his chest. 

          “Mmm, Tha mi gad ghràdhachadh cho math, mo bhan-dia Ròmanach.”  _ Mmm, I love you as well my Roman Goddess.  _ Ryan hummed as he drifted off. 

 

          Anthea hadn’t been able to truly get back to sleep after realising that Ryan had gained back his memories overnight, personally just thankful that it seemed to be natural instead of wrought with headaches and nosebleeds like Siger had been. Climbing out from the sheets once she was sure she wouldn’t wake the man, Anthea set about making breakfast for them both, as well as doing a bit of cleaning and starting a stew for them to have in the evening. 

          “Anthea! Why do you leave me alone in this bed? I did not marry you to wake up alone,” Rolling her eyes when Ryan called out for her, she pushed herself up from the stool by the fire, ready to come back with a smart retort when he mentioned their marriage. 

          “That’s not…” Anthea started, hurt that he would make such a joke until she turned the corner to see Ryan looking quite oblivious. “I pray that’s not why you married me the last thirteen times, but you still have one last time to wed me before you can say such things, Ryan Davis.” 

          “My apologies love, I really ought to fix that. These memories have just been coming so often it is becoming hard to discern the past from now. Come, I wish to lay with my… Roman Goddess for a bit,” Anthea couldn’t hold that against Ryan as she took his hand and laid out on the bed with him, smiling as he pulled her to his chest. 

          “You really ought to get up, you know. I’m almost certain you’re the last to rise from bed in all of Coventry today,” She teased gently, trying to figure out the right thing to say next. 

          “The rest of Coventry be damned. I am the man of my own house and as such, I will get up when I please,” Ryan grumbled, Anthea rolling her eyes and smacking his chest lightly. 

          “You remember how yesterday you had asked if I would know when you had gained your memories? It seems that you do not, but I’m quite certain… So I do rightly expect for you to fix the fact that I am not yet Mrs. Davis.” Anthea chuckled, sighing as the man pressed a kiss to her cheek, then the square of her jaw before pausing and pulling back. 

          “I am afraid I do not understand. I have gained back quite a few memories this life, but nothing happened last night that would make me believe they are all back…” 

          “You were able to understand me this morning when I spoke to you in Italian, and you were speaking in German…” Anthea pointed out, resting her chin on his chest. “Perhaps it’s not some grand realisation for you, but for me… you’re back. You’re here now, always. A crude way to tell if you wished, would be to cut your hand, but… I wouldn’t recommend going to that extreme.” She grinned, leaning up to kiss him gently. “Nulla alia causa me nunc intelligere potes.”  _ There is no other reason why you can understand me right now.  _

          “I’m sorry love, I just… I expected it to be something more… something… grand I guess.” Anthea carefully sat herself up without elbowing Ryan in the stomach, pushing up against the pillows at the man’s side. 

          “I’m sorry it’s nothing extravagant for you. I never really thought about what it might be like on your side. For me… I’m ecstatic. I very nearly cried from joy this morning when I realised that you are here to stay.” She murmured, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tight. “I don’t know what else to offer you. We romanticise these moments in our heads, but they’re different for each person.” 

          “No, no, love, there’s no need to apologise. It’s just… it’s a bit unreal, all of this. In my heart I know it is true, because you believe it to be, and I can feel the memories, know them to be my past, things I have lived and done and not just some other life, but it’s also… I don’t know, a bit hard to believe it happened. It’s hard to explain. I’m sorry, I’m ruining this moment for you.” Anthea shook her head as she moved to kiss Ryan slowly, taking advantage of the moment on their own to be as forward as she’d like and climbing onto his lap. 

          “Na gabh dragh,”  _ Don’t apologise.  _ She murmured once she broke the kiss, pressing their foreheads together with a fond smile. “You are back to me, I am happy. I am so thankful that you’re here, now and always, and you no longer have to worry about leaving me alone waiting for you. I am your wife now and always.” 

          “I did promise you that I would not be leaving you alone ever again, did I not? I will make an honest woman out of you yet, Anthea. How does Mrs. Davis sound for the rest of your life?” He snaked a hand to hold the small of her back, flipping them so she was below, Anthea letting out a yelp and scrunching her nose at him. “Will you marry me, one last time?” 

          “For richer or poorer, till death do us part,” Anthea laughed softly, reaching up to kiss him once more, happier than she had ever been in all her life. 


	5. Christine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Co written by the lovely Kaitlin
> 
> Here is a look at Elise and her mate

          “Tata!” Elise yelled out, running into her parents house, hardly even thinking about knocking as she had a key anyway, tossing her bag on the sofa as she continued in to try and find her fathers. 

          “He’s working late this evening, my light. What’s wrong?” Her dad walked up from the basement, wiping grease from his hands as he had more than likely been downstairs working on his bikes yet again. 

          “Dad, I’m nearly two hundred years old, stop calling me that,” She groaned, rolling her eyes with a smirk as she moved to greet him, reaching out to hug him and leaning into the light kiss on her forehead. “I need to talk to Tata, he’ll know my question better I think, no offense,” 

          “You’re one hundred and thirty three, stop exaggerating.” He laughed, walking over with his arm around her to the kitchen and getting them both something to drink. “At least entertain me, even if I can’t answer your question? I do wish to try and help you if I can,” 

          “Fine,” She huffed, sitting down on one of the stools, twisting her fingers through her hair as she gathered her thoughts before speaking. She wasn’t really sure how to go about this, or if this was even a thing… and she hoped to all that was holy that her tata would know, but there was never anything certain with their… condition. “I think Chris was my mate… and I think they’re back…” 

          “Chris is back? That’s wonderful… but I don’t understand, why do you need to talk to your father about this?” Worrying her lower lip, she knew that neither of her parents would ever judge her, or laugh or make her feel uncomfortable, even if what she thought was happening was ridiculous, but it still made her uneasy to think that something was happening that no one had ever heard of. 

          “Well it’s…  _ Christine  _ this time…” Elise said hesitantly, looking up at her dad who had a look of surprise on his face, his smile gone and his eyes wide. He was eerily quiet, which wasn’t helping calm her twisted stomach. “Is that possible?” 

          “I… I don’t know. Definitely a question for Tata,” Groaning as she frowned, she leaned her head on her hand as she traced the rim of her glass with her finger. 

          “Told you.” 

 

          It was a bit before her tata came back home, late at the office, as always, some things never changed. They had moved from the kitchen to the sitting room, chatting about other things, but mostly Christine as they waited, Elise just grateful that she could open up to her dad about her worries with this. 

          “I think I saw my little light from the window, now, to what do I owe the honour of her presence?” Groaning at the continuation of her childhood name, she stood from the sofa to greet her tata after he had said hello to her dad. 

          “Hi, Tata. I have a question about mates and Dad doesn’t know the answer,” 

          “I really don’t,” Dad admitted as he stood from the sofa, Tata taking his place as he left to head to the kitchen for dinner. Elise smiled as she watched him go, clearing her throat and returning to her tata. 

          “Well, lovely to know this isn’t just a social visit.” Rolling her eyes with a soft smile, she knew it was an old argument that he would never get over. She had moved into her own small flat when they had moved to France, ignoring her parents’ assurance that they didn’t mind getting her someplace nicer, or having her live with them, but she wanted to pay for it on her own, so a small studio it was. 

          “So, you’ve always said that mates keep the same name and at least some of the same habits… but, do they always come back the same… type?” She tried to find the right words, wrinkling her nose as it still didn’t sound just right. 

          “Type?” Tata frowned, his brows knitting together at the question. “What do you mean…” 

          “Well, I think Chris is back, but as Christine this time, and I’m just confused. She’s beautiful and has the same laugh and that pull I always felt, but we’ve never talked about this before. I don’t know what to do, Tata.” 

          “Well, my light… I am not certain. I have never heard of such a thing, but that does not mean that it cannot happen. It cannot hurt to get to know her, to see where this goes. The only way you will be able to tell for certain is if she remembers anything from before. It is your heart, and only you will be able to know if they are yours, Elise.” Groaning in frustration as she leaned back into the sofa, she scrubbed her hands through her hair much like her uncle Sherlock would do when he was frustrated. There was once they had both done it in tandem, and of course her dad had laughed for hours after, much to both their frustration. 

          “Tata, what if I’m wrong though? What if he comes back and I’m with someone else and I push him away? What if… what if I lose him before I even get the chance?” She asked both in frustration and anxious fear, looking back and hoping for something that would help calm her. “I know that Dad was married before he was with you, but that’s different because you knew it was him. I don’t yet. I don’t know if it’s them or not, and I don’t want to mess up. I don’t want to get this wrong.” 

          “Come little light,” Elise sighed as she moved to sit closer to her tata, closing her eyes as she leaned into his chest and listened to him. “Just because you feel that this person may be your mate, but that you could be wrong, doesn’t mean you will lose this game we play. Go to her, let your heart guide you. I don’t know how to explain this, but you will know if it is them. Being with someone else does not mean that you will lose them. Your aunt Anthea was married before she met Ryan, and your uncle Sherlock went nearly five hundred years without finding John. All you can do is follow your heart and trust it will guide you to them.” None of what he was saying was the answer she was hoping for, but at the same time, it wasn’t a solid no. It certainly seemed that fate took into account for someone being gay, so why not someone who was bi as well? It was just all very confusing and while she liked to pride herself on being grown and strong and smart enough to handle almost anything by herself, these sorts of situations just reminded her of how young she really was within her immortal life. 

          “It’s not fair that we have to go through all of this just ot be happy.” Elise murmured, tightening her hold around his stomach when she felt her Tata try to raise her up so he could see her face. “Why do we have to get tested like this? The gods didn’t think being immortal was punishment enough, so they had to toss in this game for us to play too? I wish I could be like Miles, running around and not caring if he falls in love or not.” 

          “It isn’t fair, my little light. I wish I could take it all away for you. This is why you have me and your father though. We both had to go through it, and there were times I was certain I had lost your father, and this last time around really tested us, what with him being married, and having to separate for a time because of a threat to our lives. Don’t you mind Miles, he will find his way soon enough. You have your father’s heart, big and caring and kind. I see a lot of him in your dearest.” Elise smiled weakly at that, still not quite finding comfort like she had been hoping for, but thankful that both her parents were understanding and supportive. “See where this leads, speak to Christine, and even if you wish, bring her here. Sometimes others know before we do. Your uncle Sherlock often times found Gregory before I did, and I found Ryan for Anthea the last time. Either way, your father and I will support you and be here for you my heart.” 

          “I know. Thank you.” She murmured, pressing herself up from her tata’s chest to sit on her own and drag her hands over her face. It wasn’t a solid yes, but it wasn’t a no either, and that was what she was going to focus on. She knew that what her tata had said was true, having heard all the stories of everyone returning to their mates, uncle Sherlock and John’s being the craziest by far, but if that hadn’t ruined their bond, then really nothing would. “You’ll like Christine. There was one time we talked about family, and I described what Anthea does, and she now wants to shadow her and have her be a mentor.” Elise laughed, looking towards the kitchen as she heard a bowl slip and her dad let out a curse. “Think we ought to go help him?” 

          “I will come along, but I think I would be more of a hindrance than I would be a help,” Chuckling, he stood, taking her arm as they walked towards the kitchen, a soft smile on her lips.

 

*****

 

          Elise had taken her time bringing Christine home, even after his encouraging, but Gregory had to keep him calm as he just wished to see her happy and was willing to find the girl himself to check in on her. His husband was right though, it wouldn’t do to find and meddle in their lives when his daughter was perfectly capable of making her own decisions. Mycroft had always had a protective streak for those he cared about, and with his daughter it was even more so present. Finally she had come to them, asking for dinner after her ballet performance, and that she would bring Christine with her. Gregory of course was thrilled to cook, anything to make food for a new audience, as it was something he never tired of. Mycroft on the other hand could do little but help with the prep and wait till their daughter arrived. Elise had been rather careful not to mention the girl’s last name, and Gregory made sure his security team would not give him any information either. It was driving him mad. 

          Pacing about the kitchen, he could see Gregory shaking his head and chuckling at his distress as he continued to cook, Mycroft letting out a huff of frustration. When a sound came from the door, he stood straight up, waiting and listening as he heard his daughter call for them. 

          “Daddy, Tata, I’m home. Christine’s here too.” Not waiting for Gregory, he walked out into the hall, his eyes going to his daughter first with a smile, reaching out for her and kissing her cheek. 

          “Good evening my little light.” 

          “Tata,” Elise complained that he had to use the nickname, greeting him though with a hug before turning to her dad as well. Mycroft turned to see this Christine, taking in everything he could as this was his first time with her. She was rather lovely, dark, smooth skin with freckles dotting her cheeks, something to match his little girl’s he thought, her hair rather short, to her shoulders in tight curls, and a smile nearly as bright as his husband’s. 

          “Christine. We have heard so much about you, thank you for joining us tonight,” Taking her hand, he laid a kiss on the back of it with a smile, reading what he could before he heard Gregory behind him telling him off, surely knowing his little tricks. 

          “A flatterer I see. It’s nice to meet both of you, too. Of course, Elise has been telling me about you both. I am certainly looking forward to your cooking,” 

          “Don’t mistake my manners for flattery my dear. Yes, Elise may be an adult, but I am still her father and I am fiercely protective,” Mycroft smiled, his daughter rolling her eyes and Gregory giving him a knowing look. 

          “Ignore him. Dinner still has to cook for about ten more minutes, so we can relax for a moment. Tell us about yourself.” Walking to the sitting room, he took a seat in his chair, Gregory resting on the arm, Mycroft’s hand in his as he faced the girls. 

          “Actually, Elise has told me about how Mr. Holmes can read anything and everything about someone, so I want to see just what he can do first.” Christine shot back, Elise burying her face in her hands with a groan. 

          “O Deus, Tata, humiliet me ne…”  _ Oh gods, Tata, don’t humiliate me…  _ Raising his brow at the request from the girl, he smiled, rather intrigued. Most were skeptical of his talents, and usually had one of two reactions when they realised it was real: either they were impressed, or rather upset and put off. He did wonder how she would fair. Elise seemed far more embarrassed though than she had before when she had brought Christopher home, and he knew it was her worries about this time that was making her this way. He would play nice, but he would also use his knowledge of Christopher to test the waters. If he was correct, then it would give his daughter some much needed reassurance. 

          “Well then, as you request.” Clearing his throat, he didn’t need any more time to look her over, having been observing since she walked through the door. “You are a brilliant woman no doubt, otherwise you would not be able to keep pace with Elise. Studied through university and have… two PhDs as well as a masters. Impressive. Social services and business, maybe an opportunity with Anthea would suit you well. You came from nothing though, your parents a florist and a bookshop keeper. It was late nights with your father reading that started your love of books and thirst for knowledge.” Staring easy enough, he could see he had captured her attention, now to throw in the facts from Christopher's life. “I can also tell that you refuse to eat seafood, which is something that might clash as our family is Ro… from Rome, and we are big on sea fare, but we’ll see if we can turn your opinion, after all my husband is a brilliant chef. You are also uneasy around children, have a mistrust of cats which is misguided I assure you, and your favourite colour is scarlet, hence the reason my daughter has elected to wear it tonight,” He finished, waiting to see what the woman might say. He could tell that Elise had picked up on his intentions, watching Christine with wide eyes, waiting. 

          “Well, colour me impressed! I’m three credits and a defense away from my second PhD, so I’ll give you that. A mild shellfish allergy is enough to keep me from wanting to eat much seafood, and cat’s don’t stay on the ground where animals should be.” 

          “Birds exist,” Elise pointed out, laughing when Christine half glared at her and gave her a playful shove. 

          “You’re a bird. You’re right on everything else. I’m truly impressed, you’ll have to teach me some of your tricks.” 

          “Oh god no, there’s already two of them between my Tata and uncle Sherlock. I don’t need another.” Looking to his daughter when Christine confirmed all of his observations, he could see a look of hope, a bit of relief there that he had been right, that this was her Chris. 

          “I couldn’t ever give away my secrets, and wouldn’t wish for competition,” Mycroft chuckled when Elise complained about him and his brother, giving her a playful glare. “I must say though, for a first impression, seeing as Gregory would not allow me to use my resources to look into you, I am rather impressed with you young lady. Who knows, perhaps I won’t have to set up a team to watch you,” He was half teasing, but it wasn't something that was beyond him to do. Chuckling once more at the look on her face, unsure if he was serious, he felt his husband playfully smack his chest for scaring the poor girl. “Well I wouldn’t be doing my duty as a father if I didn’t, seeing as you are always so carefree and accepting. One of us has to be the strict and terrifying one,” 

          “Ignore them, my parents are mostly harmless,” Elise rolled her eyes. 

          “Mostly?” 

          “I’d say eighty five percent harmless,” 

          “I still have connections to the police force, so never mind you that. Now, let’s stop on this and tell us how your performance went tonight.” Mycroft would have commented back that in no way was he harmless, but yet again Gregory cut them off, probably for the better. Sitting back and listening as the conversation shifted, he smiled as his husband got enthusiastic talking about his plans for starting his own bakery. Now that they were here, in a different country, and had started different lives where no one knew them, it was far easier to change and do drastically different things should they wish without being questioned. When Elise came to him and spoke in Latin, he instantly sat up, standing with her to move away from the other two. 

          “Ne putes me mate Christine? Quod Chris venit ad me?”  _ Do you think that Christine is my mate? That Christ has come back to me? _

          “Levis mihi si non Chris et omnes qui in illa sunt, grandioris accidens.”  _ My little light, if this is not Chris, then all those qualities, they are a rather grand coincidence.  _  It was true, that those qualities wouldn’t necessarily have passed on, they could have all been wrong as he had just been guessing, but as she had not denied a single one, it was far too great a statement to deny. Elise smiled at that, moving to hug him tight around the stomach before returning to stand beside Christine’s chair where she and Gregory were still deep in conversation about what would be necessary for starting up his own business. 

          “You realise that she’s not going to stop any time soon, right?” Elise interrupted them with a smirk, wrapping her arms around the girl’s shoulders. 

          “We’re about a handshake and a crepe away from being partners in this.” Christine shot back, grinning up at Elise as Gregory chuckled and nodded. 

          “Just have to come up with a name for it, really,” He shrugged. 

          “Sol et Luna?” Christine offered, everyone pausing and looking to her in surprise. That was a rather specific name that meant a lot in their family, not something that just anyone could have guessed. “You think I haven’t noticed how you all speak Latin when you are trying to keep something a secret?” 

          “Fine, I’ll just have to pick another language to speak code around in you,” Elise stated with a grin, hugging her tight as Gregory looked to him with a fond smile. 

          “Sounds perfect.” 


	6. You Shot Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Co written with the lovely Kaitlin, 
> 
> This was actually her request, a little Johnlock of sorts, just shenanigans that they are getting into

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one, so I will be posting again tomorrow!
> 
> We do have one more chapter after this, with more Johnlock endgame for you all because you requested. We are running out of reader requests though, so we are asking for what more you guys would like to read, and what other scenarios you would like to see played out. We appreciate your continued support! Thank you all! <3

          Yes, they were on better terms now, John had moved back to Baker street and things seemed to be going well, hell, they were even back to solving cases, but that didn’t stop the guilt from setting in once the cool metal of the gun barrel pressed to his temple. This all too familiar situation of the two of them, and an irritated criminal who wasn’t happy they had caught him, was starting to go south very quickly. Only difference this time was that John was immortal, and he wasn’t in any immediate danger, but that still didn’t stop him from thinking that John maybe regretted forgiving him. The look the other gave him as well when the criminal spoke made him think that maybe John would just let the man shoot him. 

          “Take your pick, Watson. You shoot your lovely little detective, or I do.” 

          “John…” he started, wanting to reason with him, to apologise once more for putting them here, but he watched as the blonde shook his head like he wouldn’t hear anything coming from him. That was when it hit him, John was actually going to do it, he was going to shoot him. Sherlock’s eyes opened in shock and horror, his mouth open as he tried to sputter something out, but before he could, he heard the sound and felt the searing pain. Sherlock crumpled to the ground as the criminal let him drop, his world spinning as he reached down and felt the warmth of his blood on his hands. There were more shots fired, but he barely registered anything until he saw the look on the soldiers face, the way his breathing was ragged and his hand shook as he set the gun down, slowly making his way to his side. “You shot me…” It was a question at first, like he still couldn’t believe it had happened, and then the anger came, his brows furrowing as he looked up to the man who was now attending to his leg. 

          “I know, let me see,” 

          “You bloody shot me!” This time his voice was a little more forceful, miffed that John had actually done it. 

          “Yes, Sherlock, I know! But he only said to shoot you, not kill you, and he would have killed you so would you stop reminding me that I just shot you not even a minute ago!?” 

          “He wouldn’t have done it! You could have shot him first! Just because shooting me in the leg won’t kill me does not mean that it doesn’t hurt!” Sherlock growled, groaning in pain as the man wrapped the fabric of his ripped vest tight around his leg, his breathing ragged as he fought through the searing pain. 

          “You’ll be alright in a few hours. I remember you coming to me with plenty worse as a boy and Gregory nearly cutting your arm off teaching you how to wield a sword. This is why we can’t have nice things, Sherlock, because you can’t stop yourself from going after crazy people who want to kill you! Bloody hell man…” 

          “The man didn’t want to kill me, he was killing others. I do not fit his victim profile. We were just kills of opportunity. Don’t be dense, John.” Maybe the man hadn’t shot him because he still hadn’t forgiven him, but he still couldn’t understand why when he could have just killed the other first. 

          “He would have killed you, you just said so yourself. Maybe wasn’t planning on it originally, but he had a gun to your head and he didn’t want to get arrested. I needed him to move away from you. Shooting the ground could have caused the bullet to ricochet and go anywhere. If I had moved and missed my first shot, he would have shot you.” Wincing again as John jostled his leg, more than likely on purpose, he started down the other, his head feeling a tad light from the blood loss. Sure, he would survive, but it would take a day or so to heel this, and if he knew his brother and Lestrade, the two of them would make sure he was off it for longer with no cases, or that idiot Detective Inspector would just give him cases that were below three for a time. No, this wouldn't’ do, he was not about to lie about the flat bored. 

          “You are explaining to Gavin why I was shot, and that it is no reason to keep me off cases after tonight. I will make things a living hell should you choose to tell him it was because I had a gun to my head.” Sherlock sulked, crossing his arms as he lay slumped against the wall, trying to minimise his movements. When John took out his mobile, it only took him a few moments to realise who he was calling, scowling when the man told the other he was hurt, knowing exactly what that was going to do. “John! You can’t-” Of course the other cut him off, covering his mouth and leveling him with a glare, Sherlock huffing as he laid back, frowning as he waited for the other to finish. 

          “Come on, let’s at least get out of here. Lean on me, we’ll go slow.” 

 

*****

 

          “What do you mean he is hurt!?” Mycroft turned around, looking to Gregory as the man stood in the door of his office. Typically it was a pleasant surprise to see his husband visit him at work, but today the news had come as an irritation that his brother saw fit to injure himself yet again. “Anthea, please send a car around. Sherlock has seen to it that I will not be attending any meetings today. We are going to need to find John and Sherlock immediately, and will need supplies for the doctor to assist my idiot brother.” Mycroft growled, locking up his things and grabbing his jacket as he moved out the door, waiting for the other before closing it behind them and heading for the street. 

          “I know it doesn’t help much, but John didn’t sound panicked over the phone, more annoyed and wanting help. I simply knew it was better for me to get you in all of this.” If Mycroft knew his brother, and knew John, this wasn’t something minor. It wasn’t life threatening either, but either way, it was an annoyance. “John wasn’t asking for an ambulance… so it can’t be that bad. It may very well be that I’m the one overreacting at the moment.” 

 

          It did not take them long to find the two of them. John was helping his brother walk as they slowly edged through the back alleys, Mycroft’s eyes shifting down as he saw the bloodied rags at his brother’s legs. 

          “Still think you were over reacting, my heart?” He questioned, sighing as he slipped from the vehicle. “Care to tell me what exactly you were doing Sherlock that got you into your current situation? It is rather inconvenient that you find yourself in these situation and we have to come running. I am sure that John does not care to be in them either…” 

          “Long story short, we were cornered by a gunman, he had his aim at Sherlock and he was threatening that if I didn’t shoot Sherlock, he would for me. I didn’t trust that I would have fast enough reflexes, so I did what I could to save us both.” John said bluntly, leveling a glare in his direction. 

          “ _ You  _ shot Sherlock!?” Gregory shouted, shock crossing his features. “What the hell!” 

          “In the leg! You both keep acting like I was the one who held the gun to Sherlock’s head! He’ll be fine in a day tops. You can’t be mad at me when I had to patch him up plenty of times because you were teaching him how to be a gladiator!” Listening to John’s story, Mycroft couldn’t help the chuckle that started to bubble up in his chest, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as all eyes turned to look at him. 

          “Out of all of the explanations I had been expecting, that was not it. John, you did right. My only apologies go to you for having to deal with him while he is healing. Sherlock, you should learn to keep yourself out of danger if you do not wish to get hurt,” Another chuckled rumbled through his chest as he turned back towards the car, opening the door and waiting for them to load Sherlock in it and take him home. He had been rather cross that his day had been interrupted, but this time it was rather entertaining. John wouldn’t have hit him anywhere dangerous, and maybe this would teach his little brother a lesson, though he highly doubted it. 

          “You’re laughing at this?” 

          “You’re supposed to be on my side about this!”

          “Oh come now, my heart. If John hadn’t done as he did, we both would be standing over Sherlock’s dead body. Is that what you wish for? I know he can be a pain, but I doubt you want him gone.” Mycroft gave the other a soft smile, his hand going to the man’s shoulder. “As far as I am concerned, John saved his life. Sherlock, you will be fine after tonight, though I doubt our noble doctor will be.” 

          “I’ll take it…” John muttered under his breath, helping sort Sherlock out in the back seat of the car. “Though I must admit, I had never expected for you to take my side on… anything really.” 

          “I’ve already had to nurse Sherlock through getting shot. I’ll let him be your punishment for this. And you,” Gregory turned to him, point his finger at his chest. “Don’t go making sense right now, I’m mad at you for laughing.” 

          “Well, it looks like it’s already starting to heal. The bleeding has certainly gone down, which is good.” John muttered, wrapping gauze around Sherlock’s leg now that he had the first aid kit. Turning to his driver, Mycroft smirked. 

          “Oliver, please take us to 221b Baker street please. It would seem that my brother needs to take a personal day in,” He chuckled once more, sitting back once the car started to pull away. 

          “If you are going to laugh about this, your team can be the one to take care of the body and the fallout.” Gregory shot towards him, kicking his shoe lightly with his own. Matching his husbands smirk, he let out a small huff of laughter as he nodded, agreeing to have his team easily clean up the case. 

          “I will see to it, amica mea,” 

          “If you two lovebirds are done, can we focus on the fact that I’ve been shot?” Sherlock snapped, tucking his arms tighter around his chest and turning away from them all with a huff. 

          “You’re fine, Sherlock, really. I’ll get you fish fingers and a box of jaffa cakes and you can have them all to yourself, deal?” John offered, Gregory and Mycroft biting their tongues to keep from laughing as the fight left Sherlock. “Just don’t go running around tonight just to spite me.” 


	7. Tea Leaves and Proper Chocolates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Co-written with the lovely Kaitlin
> 
> Here is our most requested by you guys, Johnlock endgame. We are still open for more requests, and would love to write some more! Please please send us more ideas!

          After Maisie had been born, John had been the first person James and Molly had called, along with asking him to be her Godfather. It was an honour, of course, and John had taken it without a second thought, even though he was slowly coming to terms with what his immortality truly meant. Having one more person to care about as they died didn’t sound great… but when he went to the hospital, he caved after holding the little infant and seeing his two friends so genuinely happy. Life was still rocky with Sherlock back at Baker Street, so it was nice to be reminded of his old life and the joys that came with that. Years passed and even as he watched Miles, Elise and now Maisie grow up, John never found it any easier to see his friends get older, passing one by one and their children moving away. He had stayed closest to Maisie, seeing her almost as a daughter as she grew and married, moving away to have her own family, though always staying in touch. It was her passing that hit the hardest, the last thing he felt that really held him to his last life. 

          Sherlock hadn’t been the happiest with the idea of John joining Doctors Without Borders, not liking the idea of him deployed away from him, but he knew better than to fight it. Instead, he reached out to Siger who had some connections and had John assigned to an immortal group that worked quietly in the most dangerous regions and outbreaks in order to keep other doctors safe. It was exactly what he needed, feeling like himself again after a hundred years or not, even being at Sherlock’s side through it all. Their relationship was odd at best, he even felt flashes of romantic attraction towards him, but never quite the same that he remembered from past lives, never quite feeling… natural. He just hoped that coming back on his own terms would help with that. 

          Returning to his shared room with a heavy yawn, John sat on the side of his bed as he continued to write a few stories here and there about patients he saw in a few journals, writing letters now and again to Sherlock that were never returned. Smiling as his roommate came in, John reached over to turn on the larger lamp and illuminating the room instead of just his bedside as the man sat on the cot across from him. 

          “Did I miss out on anything good for dinner? Or are MRE’s still what’s on the menu?”

          “Of course, you missed the best meal we’ve had in months! Roast wild boar, served with chocolate and fruit, and how could I forget, cactus juice alcohol. Just eat your meal, Watson. I hear tomorrow they are moving us out of the village and to another… Then again, I hear you are headed home finally. You going to give your mate a chance now?” John chuckled as he looked down at his MRE, making a bit of a face at it and deciding that maybe he would go down for some fruit later. Frowning slightly as Hoon mentioned him going back home, he sighed as he thought about it, thought about Sherlock and looked back at the letter that he was going to send, even though he wasn’t even sure that the man was getting them. 

          “I guess it depends on if he’s willing to pick me up at the airport or not. You’d think he’d be done sulking by now. I… I don’t know. I want to, if that is what you’re getting at. I just want it to be at our own pace, instead of trying to make everything work because of our past.” He shrugged, looking back at Hoon with a tired smile. “I already feel more like myself than I ever did back in London, even when I was happy there. Hopefully he’ll take me back.” 

          “He’d be stupid not to. A life without your mate, that’s not a life worth living. I fought tooth and nail for Soo-jin, and I’m glad everyday that I gave up what I did to get her back.” John leaned back against his pillows with a sigh, laying his journal across his stomach as he looked up at the ceiling. “I’ll admit, your story is not one I’ve heard before, but time heals all wounds. Go back to him, give it a go, and don’t try and base if off your past lives, that never goes well.” 

          “I think that’s half the reason I needed to do this, to come out here and work with Doctors Without Borders. My military service didn’t end on my terms, coming back and all the insanity that came with it was hardly… normal, and then he was gone. No one can argue that made sense.” He laughed dryly, dragging his hand over his face. “But this, this was on my terms. Sherlock is my best friend, so if nothing else… I don’t want him gone from my life, not like I had in the past. I just have to find out if I can love him again.... When he’s not sulking.” 

          “The man sounds like a right arse, but hey, everyone has someone for them. Maybe he needs you to make him less of one, and I can’t imagine a better man for the job. Just promise me you’ll keep in touch when you’ve gone home yeah? Don’t forget about us out here in the woods and jungle. If you ever need an escape, I can’t see us leaving any time soon,” John laughed at the summary of Sherlock as well as not forgetting them, sitting up on his elbow as he looked over to the man who was a very dear friend now. 

          “I am sure that I won’t forget this any time soon. I’ve loved this, feeling like I’m doing good and actually changing things in this world.” He said with a fond smile, laughing to himself as another thought came to mind. “And I’ll be certain to send some proper chocolates to you and Soo-jin, and some to share with the kids that the two of you always make friends with. Can’t promise any boar or cactus juice, but I can certainly get you some chocolates.” 

          “Good. I’ll keep you to it. If I don’t get chocolates, I might just have to leave this place and come find you and that arse of yours, Sherlock.” Laughing, John laid back shaking his head, just closing his eyes and letting himself drift to the sounds of the jungle and the kids at the campfire. 

 

          The next morning came faster than John had expected, a beat up car arriving to pick him up and take him to the small local airport so he could hop back to Geneva, their headquarters. Sherlock had warned him that he was going to move from London, but he hadn’t taken that too seriously seeing as the man was addicted to the city, but he was starting to think that maybe he had seeing as he hadn’t returned a single letter. He had just assumed that Mycroft would have forwarded whatever letters he had sent to the man, and now he would just have to find out where Sherlock had gotten himself to.

          It took far too long in John’s opinion to get back to Switzerland, through the chill air was quite welcomed compared to the humidity and the heat he had gotten so used to in the Americas. Finishing the last of his paperwork and taking a well deserved nap, John treated himself out to fondue as he caught up with the news, reaching out to both Sherlock and Mycroft to find out where everyone was now, and just how much he had missed since he had been away for so long. It didn’t take long for a man to come up to him, holding a phone, speaking on instinct in Spanish and thanking him before taking it. 

          “This is Watson. Is this Doctors Without Borders, or Mycroft?” He asked, having a feeling that those were the only options that would have access to this phone line and know he was here. 

          “So good to hear you are coming back, Doctor Watson, though I fear Sherlock is not home in London. He is not with us in France either, but rest assured, we can get you to him. He has taken up home further east, said that they were further in their sciences and he wouldn’t be bored there. I’m sure you understand. Though, after so long apart, are you ready to return, or is there somewhere else you wish to go?” John rolled his eyes at that, a smile tugging at his lips anyway at the familiar banter. Hoon was just as quick as anyone else when the mood fit him, but so many times they were just tired once their day was done that they often just shared a few words or quietly read before falling asleep. 

          “Is Sherlock ready for me to return? I’ve tried writing to him through the years, but I’ve never got a letter in return. For now, I’m not interested in going anywhere before I’ve taken a proper shower and slept in a proper bed. I loved my work, but I do love the comforts of being back in Europe.” He decided bluntly, sure that Mycroft would understand as much. “Sherlock’s behaved himself, yeah? How’s Greg and Elise?” 

          “No one knows what goes on in that mind of my brother’s, but one thing we are all sure of, he needs you. He will always need you, whether he says so or not. Take your time sleeping and bathing, as it will take a moment to arrange transportation. It would seem that my brother has taken up residence in Saitama, Japan. It is just an hour outside of the great capital. He always did say that they were more advanced. As far as Gregory and Elise, both are well and happy. We are actually just celebrating as Elise has found her mate. Chris has returned, and the two of them are in bliss. Such a lovely moment when two lovers are reunited, is it not?” 

          “Good for them,” John smiled, happy to hear that Elise and Greg were doing well and were happy themselves. Raising an eyebrow at where Sherlock had moved to, he worried his lip. He knew nothing about Japan and certainly didn’t have any memories or lives that were close to that culture. 

          “You will leave tomorrow in the afternoon. There will be transportation in the airport, as well as first class seats all the way to Tokyo. From there, someone will take you to Sherlock. John? Do try not to have too much fun.” Thankful that Mycroft had everything sorted out from door to door so that he didn’t have to try and navigate Japan on his own. He wasn’t about to admit to such even as he heard Mycroft’s amusement of the situation before hanging up. Looking back at his meal, he dug out a card that he knew was connected to Mycroft’s account to pay for his meal, deciding that he was allowed a bit of fun before heading back to his hotel to very nearly pass out asleep before he could get completely on his bed. 

 

          The next day was long but John was thankful for the first class seat to be able to rest a little more as he flew out to Japan. The flight was long, and he wasn’t able to do much more but smile and nod his thanks whenever he was brought food or a blanket. He almost laughed when he landed and the driver greeted him in English before heading out of the city. The views were certainly fascinating, John taking a few photos now and again with his mobile as they made their way out into the country, dozing against the window until the driver gently woke him at a block of flats, handing over a piece of paper that had an address on it and wishing him luck. Smiling his thanks as he woke himself up, John glanced down at the note before heading up the stairs, chewing his lip as he checked a few doors before finally finding the right one, knocking before taking a step back, simply praying Sherlock would be there to answer. John blinked as a woman answered the door, speaking to him plainly in Japanese while all he could do was awkwardly smile and look back at his note. 

          “I um, I’m sorry. I must have gotten the wrong address.” He stuttered, the two of them simply staring at each other for a moment before holding the note out for the other woman to see. “Can you tell me where this is? I’m looking for a man named Sherlock, um, Sherlock Holmes, maybe… Unless he’s changed his last name. God, I don’t even know how to say please in Japanese. Probably should have asked the driver…” He muttered to himself, not sure of what else to do at the moment. There was a sound in the flat and he felt a bit of relief and something else wash over him when he saw Sherlock come to the door, dismissing the other in what he could only assume was perfect Japanese. 

          “John, my apologies. That was Yuki, she is… well she is a friend and assistant. I did not know you were back from your trip abroad. I am sure you are here to tell me that you are visiting before going elsewhere. Must be lovely, in all those other places, helping people and whatnot.” John smiled weakly as Sherlock came to the door, his heart racing as he looked over the other. He still looked the same, more or less, slightly more tanned and thankfully it didn’t look like he had lost any weight.

          “Sherlock, shut up.” He greeted him in turn, nearly laughing at how quickly the other shut his mouth as he looked at him wide eyed. “May I come in?” John asked, actually laughing this time as Sherlock stepped back, the doctor stepping in and looking around curiously for a moment before looking back at the other. “I’m done with Doctors Without Borders. On my own terms, instead of my service before. I’ve come back to you, Sherlock, though admittedly, I don’t know any Japanese, so you’ll have to help with that.” 

          “We don’t have to stay here. I came here because of their advancements in science and chemistry. I am sure though with time you can learn the language, and their medical advances will be to your liking. Then again, maybe you have tired of practicing medicine after so many years, feel free to take whichever career you see fit, or not, you don’t have to work either…” John grinned as he continued to watch Sherlock, simply taking him in after being gone for so long. He wanted to be angry at him for never writing, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but relief to have the other back. 

          “Sherlock, it took me four years to be able to speak more than three sentences in Spanish without stuttering. If you want to stay here, we can, just know that I’ll be shit at the language for a while. I’ve never been here before, I’ve never been outside of Europe before this last bit, so I’d love to explore the country for a time before we go, no matter where we might end up living.” He said with a smile, taking a step forward as he tried to figure out exactly how to say what he wanted. “Unless… well, you never replied to any of my letters. Unless you don’t want me here and we keep living separate. You’ve always been terribly independent.” 

          “No, I didn’t reply, and I apologise. If you wish to stay here, I am sure Yuki will be relieved to know that someone else will make certain that I eat and sleep. People do worry, though I am not sure why.” 

          “Because you don’t otherwise unless someone’s here to nag you,” John stated bluntly, smirking as he took another step to close the distance between them, having to look up at the other slightly angry that he was trapped forever being so short, but Sherlock didn’t seem to bothered by it. “You’ll have to teach me how to say thank you at some point.” 

          “ ありがとう.” He laughed as Sherlock spoke so fast, shaking his head as they watched each other, the silence stretching out between them and very nearly pushing John to crack, but he couldn’t, not right now, not after Hoon had convinced him after so long to give him one last chance, to go back and not give up. 

          “Sherlock, I um… I don’t want to go away without you again. I don’t want to go away, again. I needed to do this for me, to give me my life back, but I have it now… so…” John trailed off, simply praying that Sherlock understood what he was trying to get to. When the other looked like a deer in headlights, he sighed, smiling softly to the other. “Come on, show me what you’ve been working on while you’ve been here.” He said after a moment, taking the other’s hand and leading him out of the entryway. “You can show me around town later on. I’ve been traveling nearly non stop for the last three days, my brain has no clue what time zone it’s in right now, so not today, but maybe tomorrow?” For now he was content to just be in this home with Sherlock, watching the man easily slip into explaining his experiments, even if he had no clue what the other was on about. 

 

*****

 

          A week had passed and John was finally feeling far better in this time zone than when he had arrived, their schedules a tad off as the man adjusted, but it was rather nice to wake up and have breakfast with him, not that Yuki had been an unwelcome companion. She still came over in the morning so they could travel together, and had taken to spending the evenings with them as well, teaching John the basics of Japanese so that he could at least greet and say the niceties whilst they were out. Tonight though, she was out, her parents in town to celebrate her recent promotion within the university, so it was just the two of them. They sat in the living room like old times, the silence comfortable between them as he worked on his experiments and John read the news on his laptop. He barely noticed when the man sat down next to him, a plate and tea on the table now as he looked over his papers. 

          “What’re you working on tonight?” 

          “Tea leaves. I am testing chemical compounds and how they affect the plant, not dissimilar to the tobacco ash I did before. It is very pertinent here as tea is very pervasive in the culture.” Sherlock muttered, squinting as he scribbled down the results onto the paper. Though he was here for science and their advancements, at home he still conducted experiments for his own knowledge, and he still had not lost his taste for criminology and little things that could help him with cases. Sherlock tried to ignore the fact that John was sitting so close, still not quite used to having the man back, nor having him within reach, as they were still occupying seperate rooms. He had never been particularly affectionate, and John knew that, but that did not mean that he didn’t wish to share a bed with the other, wake up with him by his side, or to feel his touch every so often. 

          “Well once you’re done with that, we should watch a film or something. It’s been far too long since we’ve had a night just to ourselves,” Sherlock leaned into the other’s touch along his back, absentmindedly taking a biscuit from the other and holding it in his mouth as he scribbled a few more notes before taking an actual bite. Every so often he did indulge in a bit of crap television, but it had been a while since John had suggested watching some together as he tended to tell him off for commenting through it. 

          “If you wish. I just need to finish up my notes then I will be at a place to stop. I am not certain we have anything in English, and the telly doesn’t either, so you might have to pull something from your laptop.” He muttered, scribbling down some more notes before stacking everything up before bringing it all into the study. 

          “Subtitles work too,” Sitting down on the sofa, he watched as John struggled with the controls, finally getting it after a few minutes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as the man looked so very proud. He wasn’t sure what he picked, but he was sure he could endure whatever it was. The films were all things Yuki had picked out, and he had seen them all at some point or another. His eyes went wide when John took a seat next to him, leaning against his side. Freezing for a moment with his arms above the other, it took him a second before he gently rested them on the other side of the other, feeling rather stiff as he tried to remain in control of himself. It had been a long while since the other had been this comfortable with him, and while he had no protests, it felt a bit strange and foreign to him. It took some time not to pay attention to John and pay attention to the film, making a few comments here and there, but nothing compared to normal. Each time he made one though, he could feel John shake his head or chuckle, Sherlock pausing to look down where the other leaned against him. When he felt the other grow heavy, he tried to stay even more still, not wishing to disturb him as John drifted in and out, his hand coming up to trace small circles on the man’s shoulder, knowing he wouldn’t notice as he was sleeping. 

          “You’re surprisingly comfortable to lean against for how thin you are… you know,” John muttered, Sherlock pausing as he looking out of the corner of his eye down to the other. 

          “It is not like I would know, I do not lean against myself.” He quipped, though not with any real feeling as his voice was soft, the film having long gone to the main menu, Sherlock having stayed where he was so he wouldn’t disturb the other. Watching carefully as John shifted to looked at him, a smile spread across his features, Sherlock fornwed, not sure why the man was giving him such a look. 

          “You’re a bastard. I’m glad I came back. Despite my better judgement, I’ve missed you, and god knows I’ve missed you for far too long.” His frown only deepened when the man called him a bastard, wanting to protest, but he heard that the other also missed him. Stuttering, he wasn’t quite sure what to say back to that. 

          “Yes… well, it is not my fault that you decided that a trip across seas was necessary. You, out there, playing doctor with other immortals.” It was a sarcastic comment, but it was everything he could do not to break down or say something sappy or romantic, using sarcasm and wit as a defense as he always did. Sherlock had never been good with feelings, or with expressing them, and to show the other that he had in fact missed him far more than he would ever let on would only lead to suspicion from the shorter man. He kept his gaze forward, not daring to meet the other’s eyes, worried of what he might find there, either contempt for his attitude, or that adoration he had seen before. 

          “And this is why Hoon called you an arse,” Hoon. He had read plenty about this man, John wrote about him often, this man and his wife that had traveled with them as well, but it didn’t surprise him that yet another person was calling him an arse. It was a common occurrence. “I wanted to live on my own terms and come back on my own terms, Sherlock. You could have come with me, I invited you to come out plenty of times.” He couldn’t have gone with the other, he wouldn’t have gotten away, felt freed like he had, learned to forgive him, but he wouldn’t argue that and have this turn into something else. “I came back to you, didn’t I? At least look at me and tell me you’re happy that I did.” His chest felt tight when John asked him to be honest and say that he was happy that he had returned, but happy would not cut it. 

          “Happy is not the word I would have chosen,” Sherlock started, seeing the look of anger and disappointment on the other’s face as he stood, walking to the window and looking out into the night at the city. “Having you gone again… it was the reason I had to come here. I couldn’t stay in London, everything reminded me of our time, and all of the things I did to you, put you through. I had to stay busy, to not think about how you were off and happy without me, or to think about the fact that I pushed you from me. I had my reasons for what I did, but that does not mean I do not hate that I did that to you, even if it was out of necessity. I never thought you would come back, I thought you would find yourself out there, be happy, and never wish to return to me, not after the misery I caused you. When you showed up on my doorstep…” Sherlock paused, his throat feeling thick and his chest tightening even more, he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself again. “Happy is not the word I would have chosen. It does not cover what I felt, nor do I believe there is a word that would.” 

          “Can’t you be happy now, then? Let’s have something that’s completely new for us and not chasing after memories from the past. Can’t we have that?” It hadn’t occurred to him that after that long winded explanation that John still didn’t understand, Sherlock’s eyes wide as he felt the man wrap his arms around his stomach from behind. 

          “John…” He started, turning around in the other’s arms so he could face him, wanting to make sure that he understood what he was saying, clearly and completely. “When I said that happy was not the word I would have chosen, it was not because I am unhappy. Yes, the past hurt, and yes, I do wish there would things that had gone differently, but after this many years alive, it would be naive to think I could change that. When you showed back up here, in Japan, all flustered because you didn’t know the language… it was more than happy that I felt. I was relieved, overjoyed, filled with a sense of giddiness… I was also… scared.” Sherlock’s voice was soft as he said that last bit, his throat thick once more as he looked down to the other. “I’m still scared, worried that I will once again push you away, or do something that will cause you to leave. I do not wish for you to ever leave me again.”

          “I’m not. I don’t want to, even when Yuki laughs every time I say hello to her. I want to stay with you, being an arse or a bastard or whatever you feel like being. I…” John paused for a moment, looking up to him before leaning up and meeting him with a gentle kiss. It had been so long since he had kissed the other, over half a millennium, and oh how he had missed it. He didn’t crave affection, or constant physical contact, and while most would argue he loved attention, he would say that he preferred to be alone, but he would never get tired of the way kissing John made him feel. “Dammit, I couldn’t have gone one more life where I was just a bit taller?” When the other pulled away, his hand reached down to wrap around his waist, the other reaching up to cup the others cheek, not wanting him to pull away just yet.   
“I couldn’t go another life without you.” With that, he pressed down to the other again, hoping that the man could feel everything that he couldn’t say, the words that got stuck in his throat, the feelings that he kept bottled up and pressed down. Gods it had been too long, Sherlock tracing his tongue along the man’s bottom lip, begging for more, desperate to feel John against him, to know him as he had before, to remember what it was like to be with his partner once more. 

          “Never again. I know I’ll get angry at you again, but I’ll never leave you again. I promise.” Letting out a groan when the other ran his hands through his hair, Sherlock took all he could get, teasing and tasting the other, nipping at his lips as his actions grew more frantic. It felt like his nerves were alight for the first time in hundreds of years, and he didn’t want it to stop. When John pulled back enough to speak, he continued kissing over the other’s skin, across his cheek, over his jaw, down his neck, sucking on that sweet spot and nibbling along his collar bone. “Sofa or bed? Because I’m not ending up on the floor…” He didn’t take more than a few seconds to bend down, lifting the other by his thighs and wrapping those legs around his waist as he carried John towards the bedroom, his mouth still on the other’s neck. It was easy enough to get them to the bed, Sherlock shutting the door behind them with his foot. Setting the other down, he crawled up, a growl rumbling through his chest as he slid his hands up the man’s damned jumpers that he always wore, feeling that tight skin that covered the man’s toned muscles. 

          “John,” Moaning, Sherlock rolled his hips against the others, his hand reaching the man’s chest and tweaking his nipple, doing anything he could to hear the other gasp and moan. Biting his lower lip as the other moved down to work at his neck, those fingers working on his button down, Sherlock moved further south once his shirt was discarded, trailing his lips over the man’s chest, down his stomach and pausing when he reached the waistband of his trousers, looking up into those blue eyes. His fingers worked quickly, ridding the man of his belt and pulling his trousers down just enough that he could mouth him through the fabric of his pants. Letting the musk of the other fill his lungs, he nuzzled the man’s groin, Sherlock reveling in the sounds that rumbled through the other, smiling against the other’s prick. Curling his fingers in the fabric, he tugged it off, quickly licking a stripe up the other’s member with his tongue flat. 

          “Fucking hell, Sherlock,” John cursed, arching his back and hips up towards his tongue, trying to get more as he pinned the other’s hips down easily. “Christ, are you to torture me for revenge of going away?” A wicked grin spread across his features as he teased and tested, taking in every bit of information and quickly learning what made the other moan and whimper. It was always a little different in each life, and it was always a challenge and a pleasure to figure out exactly what made John squirm and fall apart. Licking a long stripe up the skin again, he held it at the base with his hand before taking it all in one swoop, letting the head hit the back of his throat and swallowing with a hum. He knew John wasn’t to last long, but he wanted to take the edge off so he could take his time and enjoy everything else he had missed doing for half a millennia. Raking his free hand hard down the man’s stomach, he held John in place, working him over and hollowing out his cheeks as he twisted his tongue once more. “Sherlock, I - fuck, I’m going to… I’m so close,” He had no intentions of backing down, having waited far too long to hold off anymore. Taking John to the back of his throat once more, he swirled his tongue and swallowed around the head, keeping it up till he felt the familiar pulse before the warm liquid shot down his throat. It had been just as long since he had done anything by himself as well, never finding a need for it until John was there. He was certain he could find something to use for lubrication in the house, as he had no desire to end it like that. Running his hands through the short blonde hair and kissing the other, Sherlock pulled himself away, just enough to nip at John’s ear. 

          “I’ll be back. I’m not finished with you.” His voice was thick and heavy as he laid one last kiss on the man’s neck before standing and leaving the room. It didn’t take him long to find what he needed, Sherlock returning, only to pause at seeing John naked and looking so peaceful as he dozed in and out waiting for him. Taking a seat on the bed, he shook his head as he leaned in for another kiss. 

          “If I could move my limbs I’d have you pinned down and take care of you myself. You are truly amazing.” 

          “You are going soft on me, John,” He muttered, no complaint in his voice as he kissed the other, his prick still aching. “Next time you can do as you wish, but I still have plans.” Pulling away, he slipped down the man’s body, lifting his legs over his shoulders before taking the lubricant he found and spreading it over his fingers. “Relax,” Kissing the inside of his thigh, he ran a finger over his entrance, letting the other get used to the idea before slowly pressing in, waiting for John to let go before pressing further. 

          “Christ, Sherlock,” It didn’t take long till another finger was needed, John whimpering under his touch as he curled both, finding the man’s prostate with ease, a wicked grin flashing across his face as he teased. 

          “I want to hear you beg, John. I want to know exactly how much you want this, what you want me to do.” 

          “I want you, Sherlock. I want you to take me back, to give me everything we haven’t had in so long. I want you all over again, I want everything.” The other gasped, crying out as he pressed against that sweet spot again. “I want to feel you in me. I want everything…” Sherlock watched him as he arched and squirmed under his touch, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he adjusted his fingers to keep him on edge. After the man spoke, he added a third finger easy enough, leaning down to nip at the sensitive flesh on the inside of the other’s thigh. 

          “Mine,” He growled darkly, climbing up while keeping his fingers in place, leaning down to claim the other in another searing kiss, tasting and taking all he could. “Think you can manage to rid me of my trousers so I can give you what you so sweetly beg for?” Pressing his forehead to the other’s, he continued to move his fingers without any intention of stopping to let the other do as he requested. He didn’t make it easy, twisting his hand and pressing his fingers down on that bundle of nerves every time John got close, and it took far longer than it had any right to rid him of his trousers, but they did eventually get there. About to make another comment, his mind went black when he felt that hand wrap around him, stroking him and giving him relief for the first time in hundreds of years. A low groan escaped his lips as he shut his eyes, hands stilling for just a brief moment as he tried to regain control. When he could, Sherlock carefully withdrew his fingers, reaching for the lubricant once more to slick himself before pressing just so at the man’s entrance, looking down into those lust blown eyes. “You are mine,” The words were heavy with lust as he pressed in, groaning at the feeling of that tight heat wrapping around him. 

          “Sherlock,” John whimpered, holding him tight with his legs and arms as he steadied himself, wanting to give the other time to adjust before moving. It didn’t take long though till he was begging for more. “God, move, I want more, I need you.” No further encouragement was needed, Sherlock setting a brutal pace as he thrust in hard, pulling back and snapping his hips, over and over again. It had been far too long since he had been with John like this, never in this lifetime, and never in quite a few lifetimes, but no matter how his mate changed, this always felt like home. Reaching between them with a shaky hand, he began to stroke the other in time with his hips, twisting his wrist when he reached the top before going back down again. 

          “John, let go. I want to see you come undone.” He was pulled down into a messy kiss before John arched off the mattress, coming hard and making an impressive mess between them, his own pace becoming erratic. 

          “Let me feel you, I want to feel you.” That combined with the sensation of the other fluttering around him was all it took to push him over as well. His hips stilled, Sherlock burying his face in the man’s neck as he held tight, crying out. Before he could collapse, he pulled out gingerly and laid to the side, panting and trying to regain his composure, his head blissfully silent, something he had missed. John rolled over and curled into his side, that arm laying heavy over his stomach as he closed his eyes. “I hope your experiments can wait, ‘cause it’s my turn tomorrow.” 

          “I think that is a suitable distraction,” Sherlock hummed, kissing the top of the others head. “Now though, we should sleep. I haven’t slept well since you left, and even before that, I am certain I have not had a full night's rest since you were taken from me over six hundred years ago.” 

          “Says the man who thinks sleep is for the weak,” Closing his eyes, he threw his arm back around the other, holding him close and listening as their breathing evened out, his mind still blank. “I love you,” Sherlock froze for a moment when he heard those soft words, looking down at the other in his arms. Of course, he felt the same, he had loved John for centuries, had never stopped, but he hadn’t said it aloud for quite some time and never in this life. When the other didn’t say much else, he wrapped his arms just a tad bit tighter around the other, kissing the top of his head. 

          “I love you too,” It felt odd to say those words, though he had said it in every way except those three words, but after six hundred years… it was about damn time. 


End file.
